#tried to talk to my mom about this but that era of my life is actually something she cant bring herself to reminisce at all

[cinnamon-notes]

leaving the apartment where i lived with my ex turned out to be more painful than her leaving the apartment where we lived together

[xhoneygirlxx]

Life Sized

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: After a spell gone wrong, Eddie Munson is stuck with a real life Lucky Lucy doll.

warnings: fluff. slight angst. grump x sunshine reader. cussing. mentions of Eddie dealing. strangers to friends. Reader is a doll, "Lucky Lucy", however because she's made up skin tone, body type, and ethnicity is not mentioned. Eddie calls reader doll/Luce/Lucy Reader does wear Eddie's clothes. Reader and Eddie are around 20 (even though reader is a doll, she's been out for about 20 something years). 90s era.

*if I missed anything please let me know!

a/n: hi my loves! I'm so sorry for the wait but life was hectic for the past few days with schedule changes and birthday plans. I want to let you guys know I am slightly hung over so this might now be the best. Anyway, thank you guys for joining me on this birthday adventure! Love you guys :)

Cause we are living in a material world

And I am a material girl

“Woah woah woah woah woah,” Eddie waves hand back and forth, eyes closed as he tries to process what he just heard, “You did what?” 

Sighing heavily, Dustin stands up from the well loved couch that sits in the Munson’s trailer. “If you listened the first time you would have heard me. I said, I went to the crazy lady’s store in the hopes of bringing Chews back from the dead because I can’t watch my mom cry anymore. Before I created a monster out of a dead cat, we decided to practice on Mike’s sister’s doll,” Turning his body slightly, Dustin points to the pretty girl that sits in the recliner. 

“It didn’t work but when we woke up this morning she was sitting there.” The curly haired boy stares at the older boy in front of him, semi out of breath from his fast speaking. 

“Let me get this straight, you went to the one place that is off limits to everyone in Hawkins, bought a book of spells, and then brought a doll to life, only to bring said doll to my house?” His voice is loud enough to ricochet off the thin walls. 

“Well you said everything I just said, but yeah pretty much.” The young boy nods causing the curls of his hair to bounce. 

“Nuh uh, no, I don’t want any parts of this.” Shaking his head, Eddie begins to push the younger boy towards the door. 

“Eddie please,”  Will begs from his spot on the couch, “We have no one else to turn to.” 

“Yeah, come on Eddie, we need our dungeon master.” Lucas adds, knocking his shoulder into Mike who stays quiet on the arm of the sofa. 

“Hey don’t bring me into this, I didn’t want to do it.” Mike throws his hands up defensively, only to change his answer when the other two boys give him a stern look. 

“I-I mean, Eddie, we need your help.” It comes out more like a question than a plea but it’s the best they're going to get out of the black haired boy. 

Locking eyes with the older man who still has a hand on his shoulder, Dustin does his best to give the world's cutest puppy dog eyes. 

“Please, Eddie. I need you.” It’s quiet and sincere, and because it’s coming from Dustin it goes straight to Eddie’s heart, tugging tightly on the strings. 

Fuck why did he have to have such a soft spot for the kid. 

“I swear to Ozzy himself, if you don’t fix this in twenty four hours, your ass is grass.” A ringed finger is pointed at Dustin, his eyes going semi cross eyed from watching it wag in his face. 

Turning his body quickly, Eddie points his finger to the other three boys who sit wide eyed on the couch. “And that goes for you three. Your asses will be hanging right next to Wayne’s mugs if it doesn’t get fixed. Capiche?” 

When all four heads nod vigorously, Eddie straightens his posture and releases a sigh so loud it sounds like all the air from his lungs came out.

"Can I just say, you remind me of Lucky Lars! He has cool tattoos and long hair like you too!" You're looking right at him, eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Jesus H. Christ, there's really a talking doll in my house." Eddie's voice sounds like a whining child as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Alright it seems like everything is fine here, so we're gonna go ahead and leave." Before Eddie can stop Dustin or the rest of the younger boys, they're already out the door and gone.

"Great, just fucking great." Slapping a hand down to his thigh, Eddie spins on his heel and heads to the kitchen. He needs a fucking beer, or maybe six, either way he needs something to get him through this nightmare.

Opening the fridge, he grabs a cold can of pbr and gulps it right down without taking one breath. The liquid goes down so smooth and for a minute Eddie seems to forget the predicament he's in. Then you speak and he's instantly brought back to reality.

"Um, excuse me sir," It comes out so graceful and sweet and he hates it.

Without moving his head in your direction, he spits an angry "what" at you - teeth gritting and fist clenching. A part of him regrets being mean with you, it's not your fault this whole shitshow happened.

"I um, just wanted to ask if everything was okay." He hates that your pretty face is scrunched up with so much sadness and that he's the cause of it.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

"Yeah, just peachy." It's forced through his tight lip smile.

"Oh well that's great!" You annoyingly clap your hands together and he winces at the sound. "When can we go shopping?"

Eddie didn't know who he wanted to kill more, you, Dustin, or himself. Why he even agreed to taking you to Starcourt was beyond him, but God was the whole experience horrible. You commented on every single thing, stopped and looked at mundane objects, and ooh'd and awee'd every time you stepped in a new store.

Every store you walked into, you left with multiple bags, which Eddie had to carry. To make matters worse he had to pay for everything, burning a hole right through his drug dealing money. You're a doll for heaven sake, why the hell would you have money?

On the way home you would not stop talking about the whole experience, comparing everything to Lucy's Lucky Land. To make matters worse, you wouldn't stop touching the radio until you landed on the most ear bleeding pop song.

The moment the two of you arrived back at the trailer, Eddie realized he couldn't escape this nightmare. He was stuck with you until those little shit heads could come up with a solution to the problem.

"Alright, just uh.. put your bags somewhere in the corner." Eddie instructs, pointing in the cleanest corner of his bedroom.

Pink heels step on the brown shag carpet of his room, eyes traveling around as you take everything in. It was completely different from what you were used to, clothes scattered everywhere, cups and dishes stacked up, and posters with names you've never heard of.

It amazes you just like everything else you've seen today. You've never seen a room like this, not even the boy's back home had rooms like this. With wide eyes and agape mouth, you spin around with open arms, just like you did when you walked into the mall.

"Oh, Eddie! This is so beautiful!" With your bags still in hand, you sit down on the mess that is his bed.

"Oh my lucky stars!" You gasp, "Your bed is so soft!" Proving your point, you bounce on your butt causing the springs to creak with every movement.

Eddie watches from the doorway, unamused by your entertainment.

"Ugh yeah, it's a bed. Don't you have those in Lucky Land of Lucy or whatever it's called." Crossing his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow in questioning.

"It's Lucy's Lucky Land," you correct him, still smiling ear to ear, "and yes we do have beds! Our beds are made of plastic though, not bouncy like this one!" Sliding the bags from your arms, you continue to bounce but now you use your arms to make yourself go higher.

"Right, I should've known." He drawls.

Crossing into the room, Eddie starts taking off his vest and leather jacket, followed by his heavy boots. He doesn't realize that you've stopped bouncing, now honed in on his movements.

Turning around from where he stands by his dresser, he's met with the sight of you trying to take your shirt off.

"H-hey now, let's not do that." Turning his head to the side so he doesn't see anything he's not supposed to, he stretches his arms out to stop your hands from moving.

"Did I do something wrong?" You're so sincere when you say it, innocence dripping off of you like raindrops on a flower's petals.

"You can't just start taking your clothes off, Luce." His eyes are still to the floor, cheeks glowing red from the flush that's creeped it's way there.

"But I thought that's what you were doing." It sounds dejected and Eddie chances a look at you and he instantly regrets it.

There you sit on his messy, old, stain ridden bed, glossy pout on your lips and eyes glassy with tears. In that moment he sees you, the girl that's been nothing but sunshine and rainbows all day, the girl that's taken every indirect insult he threw with a smile on your face, now reduced to tears because of him.

"No, sweetheart, I was just taking off my shoes and jacket. When it's ready to change I'll let you do it in privacy." He tried his best to explain to you not wanting to upset you anymore.

"Are you mad at me?" You sniffle.

His eyes study your face, watching the tears roll down the plush skin of your cheeks. The more he looks, the worse his frown gets. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"B-because you d-don't want m-me here. I-I didn't mean to r-ruin your life Eddie." Tears now fall like a stream of water and words are being choked out through hiccups.

Eddie can feel all the blood drain from his body, cemented to the floor of his room. You're reduced to tears and snot because you think he hates you. He made you feel this way through constant eye rolls and loud huffs. You've been nothing but kind to him, trying everything in your power to get him to have one decent conversation with you. Yeah, there were some things he couldn't wrap his mind around when it came to you, especially when you tried to chase down a squirrel in pure curiosity, but you were trying.

Just this afternoon were you dropped off in a stranger's home, new to everything in the world, with not one single clue about life outside of your little playland. You didn't ask to be brought to life, you didn't ask for any of this but Eddie made it your problem the minute you opened your mouth.

He doesn't know what to do or say, he just stands there completely silent watching your shiny exterior crumble to nothing.

"I j-just wanted to be y-your friend b-but you hate me." Your small palms catch your face, your sobs now echoed in the curve of your hands.

"Lucy," Eddie walks over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you, "I don't hate you, okay?"

Separating two of your fingers, you peek at him from the comfort of your hiding spot and quickly retreat when brown eyes peer into yours.

"Lucy,” He calls but you don't move.

"Luuuccy," This time it's sung but still no movement from you.

Releasing a deep breath, he tries to think of something that will make you happy.

"I guess I'll just have to find someone else to play with my hair." Shagging his shoulders, Eddie sighs sadly and drops his head.

"I can play with your hair?" You sniffle, face still shining with the wetness of your tears.

Craning his head back to you, he smiles softly and nods his head. In an instant your jumping up from the bed, clapping your hands together in happiness.

"So what kind of jobs do they have in Lucy Land?" Eddie asks, wincing slightly from your finger untangling a knot in his hair.

"Oh we have so many! I've been a fashion designer, model, singer, baker, doctor, and a ballerina!" Your fingers continue to intertwine sections of the curly brown hair, trying to be as delicate as possible.

"Then there's Lars, the one you remind me of, and he's an action star. Then there's Lance who is a race car drive. Linda is a teacher, Lorelai is a painter, Lily is a florist, and then there's Larry, he doesn't have a job."

"Why doesn't Larry have a job?" He asks, flinching slightly when you pull a little too hard for his liking.

"Cause he's Larry." You say nonchalantly.

Pulling the scrunchie from Eddie's wrist, you tie off the first braid before moving on to the next one.

"What's your job?" It's an innocent question but it still makes him choke on his drink.

"I ugh, I uh work in sales?" It's the best answer he can come up with, not wanting to explain what drug dealing means to your innocent ears.

You continue to tug on his hair, pulling and twisting strands. "What's that?"

"I sell things." Blood rushes to the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks.

"Like what?"

Eddie would rather deal with the yanking of his hair than answer this question. He racks his brain for an answer, letting a small pause settle over the conversation.

"I sell brownies to people." Doing his best to shrug, embarrassment sinking to the pit of his stomach.

"Oh my golly!!! I love making brownies," You gasp and then pause for a moment, "but in my world our ovens and food are fake, so I wouldn't know how to do it in your world."

"Wait, so what do you eat?" Eyebrows are pinched together in confusion.

"Oh Eddie, you're so silly." You giggle, reaching for his other wrist that adorns the pink scrunchie.

Tying the end of his braid, you pat his shoulders gently, "All done."

The lanky boy stretches from his position on the floor, knees creaking from the movements. Walking over to his mirror, calloused fingers run over the french braids, shocked by how neat they are.

"Wow," he whispers, "They look really good, doll." Eyes still trailing over his hair, head moving side to side making sure to see every angle.

"They look so good because I had such a pretty model." Your lips are sprawled out into a smile.

Eddie finds himself blushing again, bats swarming around in his tummy and heart skipping multiple beats. Trying his best to shake it off, he claps his hands together and spins to face you.

"How about I make you my famous mac and cheese for payment?"

"Who knew food could be so good?" A satisfied sigh falls from your lips.

"Yeah, who would've thought?" Eddie snorts, sarcasm soaking his words.

Leaning back onto the couch, your eyes flutter shut in contentment. Your hands sit folded on top of your belly, shoeless feet propped up on the coffee table in front of you.

Eddie lets you enjoy your food coma, picking up the empty bowls and walking them to the sink. He decides it would be better if he washes them now, not wanting Wayne to get home and bitch him out for having a full sink.

Once the dishes are done and dried, he walks back into the small living room and is met with the sight of you sleeping. Long eyelashes fall on the tops of your cheeks, your permanent smile still sits on your pretty glossed lips, and small snores falling from your nose.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes following the lines of your features for the first time all day. When you first showed up, he could see that you were pretty and during the mall trip he'd find little details he hadn't noticed before, but right now he's really taking his time to admire you.

You're so beautiful, flawless really, and man did he get lucky having you crash into his life. You're a doll, something that's made of plastic, but nothing about you screams fake. You're so sweet and kind, always quick to accept whatever apology he gives you when he's been shitty.

Your spirit and energy shines brightly through you, bringing light to the darkness of his reality like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. You're all pink and sparkles, glitter and fluff, while he's black and spikes. For all the bad in the world, you remind Eddie of all the good.

He doesn't hate you, in fact he likes you and he wants to have you around for a bit longer. He wants to be friends with you, teach you about the real world and everything it has to offer. For the first time today Eddie realizes that this might not be so bad, not when he gets to relive all the cool things in life with you by his side.

Stalking over to you, he gently shakes your shoulder. "Luce, hey Lucy. Come on, s'time to wake up."

Squinting from the harsh yellow lighting of the room, your lips pout slightly from the rude intrusion of your slumber.

"Come on, Luce. We're gonna go to bed now." Holding out a hand to you, Eddie helps you stand up from the couch.

"I don't have jammies." You sound like a small child, voice quiet and hushed from how tired you are.

"What did you get at the mall then?" Leading you to the edge of the bed, he helps you sit down.

"I bought cute clothes to wear during the day." You shrug, rubbing your eye with the back of your hand.

"Of course you did." It's quiet enough so you can't hear, fingers rubbing hard over his forehead. "Alright, well I have something you can wear."

Digging through his drawers, Eddie finds an old Hellfire shirt and a pair of sweatpants from high school he doesn't wear anymore. Walking back over to you, he hands you the clothes and instructs you to change when he leaves the room and to call for him when you're done.

When your groggy voice echoes from behind the closed door, he slowly creeps in. You're still sitting in the same spot now wearing his clothes.

"Everything fit okay?" You nod, eyes growing heavier the longer you're up.

"Good, good. Well let me help you," Eddie leans over you, trying to fluff up the pillows the best that he can. Pulling the covers back, he tucks you into place.

"I'll be sleeping on the couch, so if you need anything just call my name and I'll be back." Giving you a tight lipped smile, he turns to shut the bedside lamp off.

"Eds?" Your voice cuts off his actions. "Can you sleep in here with me?" You blink up at him tiredly, still as beautiful as ever.

"How about I sleep on the floor next to you? Is that okay?" Eddie offers and you quickly accept with a sleepy smile and a lazy nod.

"Okay let me grab some extra blankets from the closet and change, then I'll be in." He reassures and you wiggle around in a tiny dance making his chuckle.

"Hey Eddie," Again you cut his movements short, "Thanks for being my best friend. I like being here with you." Your smile is shy, fingers nervously picking at the frayed edges of the blanket.

"I like being with you too. Thanks for being my best friend." The two of you beam at one another, letting the warmth of your budding friendship sink into both of you.

Leaving the room Eddie makes sure to shut the door behind him. Before he digs for any kind of blanket, he moves to the phone that sits on the wall. Punching the numbers fast, he looks back to make sure you haven't left your spot.

After a few rings, the other line finally picks up to his relief.

"I know it's late but ugh," He checks the door one more time just in case, "Forget what I said earlier. Yeah, she's gonna be staying here for a bit longer."

After hanging up the phone and grabbing whatever he needed, he heads back into the room where you're now sound asleep. Throwing a pillow to the floor, he shuts off the light and lays down.

For a moment it's quiet, the darkness of the room lulling him to sleep quickly. Before his eyes slam shut, your arm snakes out from under the blanket, your awaiting palms sitting there for him. Without hesitation, he grabs on and holds it for dear life.

Yeah, having you around won't be so bad.

Thank you guys for reading! love you all <3

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[tinandabin]

Another gen z reader pls!

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND.

Yandere Muzan x Gen Z! Reader.

Also, this will contain TRIGGERING THEMES!! It could be anything, like mentions of murder, blood, obsession, anything yandere related. Basically dark content, so if you are NOT comfortable with such stuff, please do not read this post!

Okay, so before we start this shit, just know that Muzan here is kind of gonna be like, only good to you and shit.

"My love, I'm back-" Muzan announced as he started taking off his coat like they did in those 90s shit. Or not. God, my memory is fucking shit. That does not matter, for the only goal in your mind at the moment is to find a excuse to get away from this ugly orange of a demon.

"Oh no, I forgot to water my baguettes! I am so sorry, I must take my leave right now!" Just as you said that, your baguettes in the background screamed, "Hydrate us, [Name]!"

I can't even properly tell you how hard Muzan face palmed at your so stupid attempts to try and escape his affection??? And he doesn't even wanna know who you bribed to wear baguette costumes and say to hydrate them.. What did you even bribe them with???

One of them was probably Enmu.

Muzan, himself doesn't know why the fuck he finds you so amusing. It's probably because you are like, literally playing with your life. Literally.

Evidence is the time when you once tried drinking bleach because first, it looked tasty, and second, you wanted to know what bleach tastes like.

And my God, it did not taste as good as it looked like! IT WAS A SCAM. No one ever scammed you this hard. It tasted like extremely concentrated swimming pool water.

Oh that reminds you of the time when you drank swimming pool water-

And in the Taisho Era, there is no shit like fanfics or memes so Muzan can more than often find random drawings...which are memes but his boomer brain can't process what's so funny about it. Like, talking croissants are funny- no, not the ones you find on Kids YT.

But as I said there are no fanfics, and my goodness do you love reading, proof is of you reading this. So let's hope you like reading books too.

No fanfics. What can you do? Probably read Shakespeare. I'm bullshitting my way through this, please deal with it.

Of course, after reading Shakespeare your grammar and vocabulary got a lot better! Which Muzan liked, a lot.

But,,,,, you being you, now even have more ways to insult Muzan. Like,

Thou base decayed ingested-lump!

Thou perfidious weather-bitten writhled shrimp!

Thou fawning fool-born filthy rogue!

And you could go on and on, but let Muzan have a break.

It's so funny to the uppermoons, especially Douma, when Muzan is just 'scolding' them by 'gently' smashing there heads in and you come in and go, "Awww, mama duckling scolding her ducklings..." As you pretend to make a video with your phone which you don't have because Muzan broke it because he's an asshole.

And as soon as you come in, somehow all the blood disappears and everything is normal as he kisses your forehead and asks, "What are you doing here, darling, did I not tell you to not leave your room?"

Everyone present could feel the temperature drop when Muzan said that, and that was not a good sign.

"YOU AREN'T MY MOM." As soon as you said that, you ran away faster than light because you are....idk. You were able to run away mostly because Muzan let you, but trust me when I say that he wasn't angry at you, more so at the demons who he kept at your room's door to prevent you from leaving the room.

And those poor, poor demons who were now begging for their lives as Muzan glared at them, "I gave you one job, one job.."

That's just when you had to again come in, "CUT!" You yelled, "Do it again, but this time, with more feelings." The demons and Muzan nodded, "ACTION!" You said as the scene started again, this time, with more feeling.

One time you just pointed at one ugly demon and said, "This does not spark joy," Muzan killed it. And then after seeing what Muzan did to the ones you said that to, "This does not spark joy," you said to Muzan. Pointing at him.

And after that, he was seen sulking the whole day because he thinks you hate him, which you do. I hope. I don't know.

MASTERLIST

[skullsuited]

hawaiian party.

inspired by this song.

gif credit.

an fbh!era/college!au imagine full of angst, humor, smoking weed, hiding in a bathroom at a party & grief.

content warning: marijuana usage, mentions of disordered eating, feelings of loneliness & dealing with a parent’s death.

This was the first time you'd been out since your mother's death. Unwillingly so, and yet, here you were, hiding in your best friend's bathroom at a college party. How depressing of you.

Nadia, your best friend and Alpha Theta's starry-eyed sorority member, had practically pleaded on the phone with you to come out and 'let loose', because 'your mom wouldn't want you to rot in your dorm room, eating M&M's and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy'.

You hated that she had a point. You hated that this was what your life had come to.

Nadia had also mentioned that a few of your other friends would be attending the party and they had, apparently, mentioned how much they 'missed you' and 'wanted to see you'.

How could you say no to them? If you turned them down, you would be stuck in the same bottomless pit of loneliness, grief and M&M's.

For Nadia, for your friends and for your mother's memory, you had decided to attend the party at her sorority. Many of the people there, you didn't know or really bothered to speak to. As you arrived, you noticed a few of your friends lingering around. Niall was talking to Michael and Luke, Liam and Calum were playing spin the bottle with a few strangers, Nadia was nowhere to be seen and Harry was up against a wall, a joint in between his fingers.

He had been the first one to make eye contact with you, to notice your presence. A smile pulled at his lips and before you knew it, he was chasing you upstairs to the bathroom, racing after you as you tried to ditch the scene.

Which is where you are now: in the bathroom, sitting against the tub with Harry sat next to you.

"You've been away." He breaks through the silence between you, taking a drag from the joint he'd been puffing at.

"Yeah." You reply quietly, eyes cast downward, tracing over the tile.

"How, um... how have you been..." He trails off, trying to find the right words.

"Coping?"

Harry looks at you now, emerald eyes overcome with worry and concern for your wellbeing.

"Not very well. I haven't really... haven't really eaten properly. I mean, you know my relationship with food is..."

"A rollercoaster. Been that way for a very long time. I know."

You sigh, unsure of what to say. Of course, Harry knew. Other than Nadia, he was your closest friend. You'd met in high school and were inseparable ever since. Your fingers twitch towards the joint he's holding, and he hands it to you, watching you take a drag from it.

"Your mum was a good person, Y/N. I know she fucked up a lot of things, but one thing she was truthful about was how much she loved you."

"Y'know, what the really fucked up part of that is?"

"What?"

"I don't believe she truly loved me. I mean, after everything she put me through, how can you call that love?"

"Everyone has their own version of love, Y/N. Whether we understand it or not, is completely up to us."

A half-hearted smile tugs at the right corner of your lips. Harry's very emotionally intelligent and opening up to him, even if it's surface level, is helpful.

As you hand him the joint, a question brews in your mind, "What do you think? About love, I mean."

Harry chuckles, taking the joint from you. "I'd like to think that love is a word for a feeling no one can truly describe. I don't believe it's conditional or should be tied down to a person, place or thing. Love, like any other feeling, should be felt freely. Love is part of the human experience."

"Okay, Professor." You grin, "Maybe you should be studying psychology, become a therapist."

"Mm," He hums, "What have you been up to? Besides hibernating."

"I'm watching Grey's Anatomy again."

"Again? Christ, this is the third time!"

"I'm almost done with Season 11, believe it or not."

"Jesus. Do you not get bored of looking at Jesse Williams?"

"Never."

"Is that all you've been doing?"

"What, is wasting away in my bed, anticipating the next time Dr. Jackson Avery is on my screen, not a healthy way to cope with the fact that my mother's dead?"

"You're passively grieving, Y/N. Hell, I don't even think you've allowed yourself to fully process."

"These things take time, H. I can't just piece myself back together."

"S' not what I'm getting at, love. I think you're pushing your grief to the side."

"Harry..."

"If you need a reminder that you can come to someone, that you're allowed to shoulder the burden with someone else, I'm happy to give you one. You can't go through this alone, no matter how hard you try."

"You know just what to say, don't you?"

"Maybe I should become a therapist. M' quite good at it."

"Well, in that case, should I open up now or let you get your PhD first?"

"Don't bother. Dr. Styles is in."

"In all seriousness? Thank you, H... for letting me just... be."

"Don't have to thank me, love. M' always here. Now, why don't we get out of here, smoke a bowl in my car and get you a cheeseburger?"

"Sounds good to me, Styles."

Harry stands, the joint he'd been holding in between his fingers had burnt out. He tosses it in the trash bin near the toilet, before holding his hand out for you to take. You smile up at him, taking ahold of it.

Exiting the bathroom, you both weave through the party and head out into the night.

If there's anything your mom would have wanted for you, it was to have someone like Harry. Harry was supportive, thoughtful. He knew you better than you knew yourself and, at times, you were grateful for that.

With death, comes life. With life, comes love.

Perhaps, Harry would open your eyes to that.

You had hope that he would. That he will.

[fairuzfan]

hi! I know you like getting messages of support from other nations so I hope you will find some worth in this one, however meandering. it's a bit related to your talk about food appropiation,

In the Sierra Madre, seeing a prickly pear is nothing less than a relief. The land is full of life, but it is of a kind that can be thoroughly indifferent to human life, so seeing the bright red of a tuna can feel like gift from the land. It is the friendliest plant around, in its context. A lone dot of color and edible flesh in a sea of thornscrub. There's spines, sure, but those are a non-issue if you know how to handle the plant. It's not hard to peel the fruit one-handed, using just a sharp knife and a flat rock. My grandpa used to do that, and still does when we visit the ranges in San Luis Potosí where he used to shepherd sheep and goats as a child. The flesh is refreshing on a hot day and the sweetness warms you on cold one.

Which makes it all very shocking that Israelis adopted it as a national symbol, calling it "sabra", and also giving that name to the "native"-born Israeli populace. They say it is because they have a sweet interior surrounded by tough spines to pierce their enemies, but that does not sound right. The only way you could possibly see it as unfriendly or standoffish or as a symbol of self-defense, is if you are unfamiliar with land and context and go shoving youself places you shouldn't be. I can't help but think of their "making the desert bloom" mindset, and their misunderstanding of natural characteristics as hostility.

When Madagascans introduced the plant into their lifestyle, they used the fruit to feed cattle, and stave off hunger. And when French colonizers tried to get past the walls of cactus they wove with it, they were stung. It was only the engineered sabotage of the cactus with pests that ended that era of self-sufficience. I think the people of Madagascar were infinitely more worthy of taking it as their symbol!

I guess what I am trying to say is that Israel does not just merely appropiate things that are geographically close to it, and similarly, it is not just its neighbors that take stock of its, wrongness, to put it mildly. As much as Israel would like to believe that support for Palestine is a fad, we simply are not as incapable of drawing parallels as they would like us to be.

I think of Palestine every time I have to try and master my anxiety around U.S. Border Patrol. I tell myself I'm not allowed to back down give up when other people haven't given up, with walls in their own land. I hope that thought helps!

this is such an amazing message filled with so much thought, thank you SO much for sending this in. We also eat sabr in Palestine, I remember my mom and grandma talking about eating it back in the 80's when it was more available.

I did not know that about Madagascar, thank you for telling me. I'm going to write this down in my sketchbook for illustration ideas.

I hope that one day soon, the borders that are so violent to our peoples fall and are replaced with a kindness and community that we dream of. I'm sorry that you have to encounter such division in your life with the border wall, but I hope that we both work together to tear them down :)

[iprefertheterminsane]

All this talk of a wedding and the perryshmirtz era revival (which im sure is at least 98% attributed by the boycott and queerbait again) is making me want to churn out a perryshmirtz wedding AU ficlet. So hear me out;

Perryshmirtz Fake Wedding AU

Not least inspired by @echoes-of-the-unknown 's fanart taking the cake for most reblogged recent post by the perryshmirtz tag featuring a confused Heinz; a panicking, blushing Perry; and the kids doing what they do best: inciting chaos.

It's hardly the first time human!Perry has had to juggle the discretion of his two halves; keeping Heinz and the consequent violence and political dangers of the agency and undergeound villainy AWAY from the already PRESENT continuous dangers of his boys' adventures. Despite Perry's white knuckled grip on control, the tri state area is TINY, and the damn things overlap whether he wants to or not. This isn't even the first time he's caught smack bang in the middle of it, but he's usually brighter than this.

The tight knit group of middle schoolers looks at him expectantly, covered in grease (likely attributed to their latest technical contraption of the day) and leaves (likely attributed that they are in middle of a pollen infested Danville Central Park in the middle of spring.) As fate would have it, he has Heinz in a headlock, which is not so unexplainable even if neither Phineas nor Ferb would have ever expected their mellow behaved Uncle could ever be brought to incite such violence on a stranger, much less had expected him to leave the house. The picnic blanket, flowers and food (it's thematically related to Heinz's scheme today, and a backstory related to his first high school date) is much less easily dismissed.

I'm-

-Think fast think fast think fast think fast-

On a date.

Isabella's eyebrow twitches up sharply. Perry barely holds in a wince as Phineas and Ferb shares an equal look of surprise, if perhaps kinder.

Heinz has gotten still in his arms, and it is a silent blessing. Perry readjusts so his grip looks like he's attempting to choke the life out of the man, much more like a white knuckled hug from behind.

"We didn't know you were dating, Uncle P," Phineas says, politely. Suspicious, but yes, polite, because Linda had raised him right, of course. "How did you meet? How long have you been together? Does mom and dad know?"

The idea of the kids getting this news back to Lawrence and Linda somehow, adults who are less likely to react unpredicatably and blow it somewhere out of his control sends a splash of ice water down his back, and he's practically sputtering without second thought.

You can't tell them, Perry signs urgently. Because-

The kids wait patiently, which makes things worse. Perry is stuttering through his signs as he attempts to make something on the spot.

You can't tell them because he's not my...boyfriend.

Their brows furrow in confusion, almost in sync.

He's my- Perry winces. -Fiance (?)

All at once shock overrides their expressions of doubt and confusion, the childish giddiness and appeal of marriage taking hold of their previous suspicions. Marriage was serious business, after all. One does not lie and dither about marriage. It's genius. He's doomed.

Baljeet's gasped and dropped his armful of sheepskin (where on earth would the boys have sourced these things-) for dramatic affect. Isabella has her hands over her mouth, her eyes taken a sheen of romantic yearning. Phineas is apologizing profusely, and Perry is begging to everh merciful Law and Deity listening Heinz does not decide to speak up right then.

Things are complicated on Heinz's side of the family, Perry explains, which is close enough to the truth that he doesn't feel guilty about lying to the boys any further. We're trying to arrange things a bit more carefully before we decide on anything full proof and explain things to your father.

The children clamor with further questions, save for Ferb, who continues to stare with an undicipherable look on his face. Baljeet's question rises above the rest in a brief moment of respite, and it is a simple, sweet enough request that he does not have the heart to refuse: "Can we help with the wedding planning?"

Sure. Perry says helplessly. Maybe once we decide we can follow through and I break the news to Phineas amd Ferb's parents, maybe-

The children are too busy cheering to listen to the rest of his words, their priorities sorted and greenlit as far as they are concerned. They promise to plan for a wedding to be remembered, the best wedding in the history of Danville, and are finally compliant enough to be shoo-ed away, discussing flower arrangements, officiants and-bizzarely, extraterrestrial port arrangements and guest lists.

Perry waits, at least, until they are out of earshot before he allows the weight of his impulsive actions to overcome him, but Heinz finally speaks before he could.

"So," the german-borne scientist cuts in in what Perry assumes he thinks of as a very casual manner. "Fiance, huh?"

Perry faceplants into his cupped hands, and Heinz chuckles where he still hadn't moved, tucked in between Perry's legs in a fascimile of a hug.

I'm really, really doomed

[sugawhaaa]

☆----------CHIFUYU FANFIC

☆--------------PERVER PT.2

☆---------------------------phone call

GENRE:: SCHOOL ERA, ENEMIES TO LOVERS (if you squint)

A/N:: remember when I said that I thought my gf was mad at me? Well she wasn't BUT she did break up with me 2 days ago....so....

WARNINGS:: VULGAR LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF RAPE AND SA (NOT THE BOYS OFC)

TAGS:: @main-character0

It had been three days since the incident happened with Baji and Chifuyu and since then they haven't been at school. That was until today in science. A group project had been assigned and you were partnered with Baji and Chifuyu. Of course Chifuyu tried to do some work on the project but Baji wouldn't let him. Drawing smiley faces and weird doodles.

"Baji, do you think you could help a bit maybe?" Chifuyu sighed as he wrote down some notes. You were planning the poster and drawing sections in your own little world. "We're going to have to work on this after school but I'm afraid my house won't work," Chifuyu spoke in the loud room. You thought for a moment and remembered what Baji had said "That Chifuyu’s parents aren't present in his life!"

"We can go to my house," Baji chimned in. "My moms super chill and my dad is out of the country right now so it'll be nice, quiet, and calm," He smiled as he reassured Chifuyu.

"Does that work for you?" Chifuyu asked you. You nodded.

"It'll probably be fine but I'll text my mom just yo be sure," you pulled out your phone and texted your mom. She replied to you a little while later and told you to be safe but other than that you were free to go. Baji and Chifuyu told you to meet them by the picnic table out back.

After school you met up with the two of them and you walked with them to Bajis house. You felt a little awkward but the other two didn't seem to mind you being there at all and proceeded to include you in their antics. You eventually arrived at Bajis house and you all had some peyoung together before getting started on the project. It ended up being extremely fun, you started getting a warm fuzzy feeling of happiness when around them. Midway through working Baji got a call. Before answering he showed it to Chifuyu and Chifuyu nodded. Baji answered the phone.

"Yo," he said into the mic. There was muffled talking over the other end. "Right now?" He spoke again. "Shit, alright well I got Chifuyu with me right now. We'll be over as soon as possible," Baji said in a serious tone. Chifuyu patted Bajis back with a big smirk.

"Let's go,"

☆—------

"What!?" Baji and Chifuyu said they'd be kicking you out and you could walk home. You said your goodbyes and they walked off but you didn't. You were going to follow them. Not all the way to wherever they were going and you wouldn't be a creep about it, it was just suspicious. And you were curious. Nothing serious. You watched them for a while and they went back inside the house. Shortly after they came out in Tokyo manji gangs outfits and Baji had no glasses on and his hair down. He looked like a whole man. He turned to your general direction with a frown, his sharp cat-like eyes cutting through the evening air.

"What's up?" Chifuyu asked as he put his hands in his pockets.

"Nothing, just thought I heard a bike," he said in a raspy and deep voice. Very different from his nerd tone. They were so different in every way imaginable, voice, visuals, attitude, aura everything. Worst of all, they were wearing TOMAN outfits. Toman. You started to second guess following them but you checked your watch to see it was 5:33 and you told your mom you'd be home by 6 to 6:30 so why not follow them. Chifuyu started walking to the right before realizing Baji wasn't following.

"Aye, what about our bikes?" Chifuyu spoke sternly.

"The fights near us, it'll take us at most 15 minutes," Baji said as he walked steadily down the sidewalk. You followed behind them not too closely before feeling something grab your hair and a hand go over your mouth. You tried to scream but nothing came out. Everything went black.

When you awoke you were in a dim lit room tied to a chair, the stench of cigarettes and weed burned your nose. A man with long hair sat on a table, another with a buzz cut leaned against the wall on the opposite side with a baseball bat. The long haired one glanced at you before turning to the other man.

"She's awake," he said with a tilt of his head. The one with the bat looked at you before standing up.

"Why did we even kidnap her in the damn first place," he growled as he grabbed the head of the chair and pulled you close. Fear coursed through your body. You were kidnapped and you still didn't know why or what they were gonna do to you.

"She was suspicious and an easy target," the other man explained as he stood next to the other. They argued for a while about what to do with you and what the best option was. That was until the one with a bat commented.

"Why don't we pleasure ourselves with her? She looks young so she's probably a virgin," your jaw dropped and you shook your head intensely as if they would listen. 

"That would mean we'd have to untie her," the other rolls his eyes and puts his hand on his hip. "And what if you get her pregnant?" 

The other shook his head and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. 

"Trust me this isn't my first go at this. She won't need to be untied, they don't fight as much when they're tied," he stated as he started undoing his belt. The other rolled his eyes but still watched. The man then took off his pants and went to take off your skirt. You fought back but you weren't strong enough for two men. It was only when they got your panties off you started seriously panicking. Tears streamed down your face when a loud thud was heard at the door. The man in front of you grumbled and told the other guy to answer the door. The man's hands touched your bare skin and you jumped away from his hands. He slapped you hard at your "disobedience" 

The door was kicked to the floor with Baji standing behind it with his foot up, chifuyu behind him, and two other blond men. You yelled in joy but they couldn't hear you over the tape. The man in front of you joined the other to start fighting but Baji and one of the other blond boys fought back. Chifuyu attended to you.

"Y/N! Why are you here, what happened?" He said as he bent down to your level and untied you. After freeing your arms he undid the tape on your lips, red marks on your face from the tape. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around your waist to cover your exposed body. He stroked your face comfortingly. "It's okay, we're here now, shhh," he said as he hugged you in his arms as you sobbed. You looked up at the room through your watery eyes to see the men responsible on the floor covered in blood. Baji looked down at you with a stern frown before instantly softening.

"Oh my god Y/N? What the Hell are you doing here!?" He sounded angry at you and you flinched before he bent down to you as well. 

"When I found her they had taken off her clothes and had her tied to a chair. I can only assume they had planned to do the worst to her," Chifuyu informed Baji as he continued to hold you. Baji scoffed.

"Those motherfuckers are gonna get it!" Baji stood up and stomped on one of their heads. "We're you going to rape this woman!?" He yelled at them. "ANSWER ME!" He yelled even louder.

"Y-yes! I was! Now please leave us alone!" The man on the floor cried and Baji frowned.

"You think you can just run off after pulling some shit like that!?" Baji lifted the man and proceeded to punch him continuously against the wall. "She is an innocent young woman that you stumbled upon and thought you could just use!? Huh!? You fucking punk. You never ever hit a woman! She could be your sister or your ex or your own God damn mother but you never raise a damn hand at her ever again alright!?" Baji said as he beat him to near death. One of the blond guys you didn't know held back his arm.

"Listen I know what he did was unforgivable but…let him go," he spoke softly.

"I should snap his dick. That'd teach him a lesson!" Baji clenched his fists together.

"Then you would be no better than the man himself. He almost violated your friend's body and you almost violated his. If you overstepped his boundaries you would be doing worse than what he did to your friend," he explained. He was right. Baji set the man down and looked back at you, his face covered in blood. 

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. Back to his normal school voice.

"I'll be okay," you blush and cover yourself. 

"Friend of yours?" One of the blond men put his arm around Baji.

"Yeah we know her from school,"  said as he helped you up on your feet. "And she must've disobeyed us and followed us anyways," Chifuyu frowned at you. You looked away and sighed. "Remember what I told you at the picnic tables?" He said softly you worried thinking he was talking about hitting a girl. You flinched. "No, the other thing," he chuckled. You thought for a minute. "Me and Baji are involved in some shit that could end you up really hurt or even dead," Chifuyu hugged you. "Please stay out of this from now on okay? We shouldn't have lied to you for so long,"  shook his head before looking at you again. Your eyes are still leaking. "Here,"  took out a piece of paper. "Draken you gotta pen?" He asked one of the blonde boys.

"Why the Hell would I bring a pen around with me?" He raised one brow. Next thing you know he threw a pen at Chifuyu, right for the head. Chifuyu grabbed it with reflexes faster than lightning.

"So you could've caught all of those…" you thought to yourself. Whenever Baji threw things at him at school he just let it happen but really he's faster than lightning, you could hardly follow the pen that's how fast it moved. "You could've caught that pen that Baji threw at me!" You called him out as he wrote on the piece of paper. 

"Guilty~" he chuckled before handing you the paper. "This is Baji and mine phone numbers. Call us when you're home and safe alright? Call us at any time if you're in some shit alright?" 

You nodded and took the paper. You pulled out your phone and entered in the numbers. "My house is on the way to yours so would you want me to walk you?" He asked. You nodded and said goodbye to Baji and…friends before walking off with Chifuyu. "I'm sorry," he said out of the blue.

"For what?!" You looked surprised.

"For what happened to you…one of us should've walked you home or we should've told you what we were doing!" He sighed and grabbed his hair tightly. The thought of him being able to help you but not doing it was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

"It's okay, I was being dumb!" You tried to explain to him. He pulled you into a hug again. 

"No. It's my fault and that's the end of it okay." He said sternly and he held you.

"Okay…" 

[didhewinkback]

Something Old

Written for @harry-on-broadway's fic challenge.

Written prompt used: "What's this, then?"

Watching your childhood best friend (& the man you've been in love with for half your life) get married proves to be harder than you thought. Will you be able to make a quick getaway to avoid further heartbreak? Or is it finally time for the truth come out?

A/N: the pic represents more of an overall vibe rather than a definite representation of what he is wearing. but the vibes of the pic are absolutely accurate. some liberties have been taken with accurate chronology of his dating life bc this is fiction town usa baby. takes place during the fine line era, in a world with no covid. dream world. please let me know what you think!

-----

There was a huge water fountain, right in the middle of the hotel courtyard, making criss-cross patterns into the pool below and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. It was soothing, in a way. Or at least you were trying to force the concept of being soothed upon yourself, trying to focus in on the sounds of the water and the lights reflecting off of it. Anything to not think about the background noise of the party, of the clinking glasses and what that sound would mean, to think of him – nope. Back to the fountain.

Your mother cleared her throat. Her eyes had been burning holes into the side of your face but you couldn’t face her or that look of pity in her eyes. Your fingers tapped against the handle of your suitcase as you kept your eyes on the water. Just keep staring at the water.

“Did you call an Uber or…?”

“I’m just going to take the rental back to the city and go from there.”

“You could always take it back to the house. Bit of a drive but…”

The thought of walking into your childhood home, alone, while his own childhood home sat right next door was too much to bear. “I don’t,” you cleared your throat as your voice caught, “I don’t think I can be surrounded by all those memories. God, Mum, this is so embarrassing –”

“Oh, baby, no. Come here” Your mom rushed over to you and wrapped her arms around you in a death grip as you let yourself collapse into her arms, feeling 8, 15 and 26 all at once. The tears which you had been trying to save for the drive poured out of you, your mum shushing you as you buried your face into her shoulder. She stood there and held you tight, letting you release all the emotions you had pent up since you got here. You had never had an explicit conversation with her about your true feelings for Harry but with the way she was holding you, you knew you never had to. She knew. The thought made you tighten your arms around her, burying your head a little deeper as the tears flowed. Just a few more minutes.

“I’m getting your dress soaked,” you said, trying to pull your head away and pull yourself together before your mum tightened her arms around you, holding you in place.

“Could give two shits about my dress.” “Mum!” “I’m serious, I don’t care. Not when my baby is weeping in my arms.”

“Okay, I’m hardly weeping,” you huffed a laugh as you took a step back and wiped your face, looking into your mum’s kind eyes, glassy in their own right.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? Tell him what’s on your mind?”

You shook your head before she even finished her sentence. You had tried that, years ago. Winter break 2013. He had been gone almost two years, touring and traveling the world while you watched from afar at uni. You had walked down your stairs, rehearsing your big speech in your head while smoothing down the new skirt you bought for the occasion, only to look up and find him in your living room with the most famous pop star in the world in his arms. He had brought her home to “meet the family” he said. Which included you. You were just family. And he dated pop stars now. A gut punch that you quickly healed with copious amounts of tequila. And a drunken hookup with a boy from sixth form. It was fine. You were fine.

You had been best friends since you were 8, neighbors since you were 6, and for years you brushed off your crush, chocking it up to an extension of affection for your first male friend - the boy who made you laugh until you cried, who always needed help with math homework, who dragged you onto the dance floor when everyone else was too nervous to at that first school dance. The boy who stood in front of you in his bedroom, nervously singing along to a Youtube track before asking you if this was something you thought he could do, for real. The boy who invited you to join him a few weeks each summer, riding bikes through muggy Colorado streets for late night froyo or hiking those Hollywood hills. The boy growing into a man who called you when you were studying at the library, in the middle of the night halfway across the world, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure and needing a piece of home to slow his exhausted, racing mind.

This crush was something you thought you would grow out of. Except you didn’t. His life had become drastically different than the one you two had shared in your small hometown but whenever you were together, it was like no time had passed. After that fateful winter break, you had tried to keep your distance but each time you saw him, you were sucked right back in.

There had been more moments - falling over yourselves during a drunken McDonalds run, or during a screaming match in the middle of a very competitive round of charades, or when he bounded off stage after that first solo night at MSG, wrapping you in his arms and holding tightly - moments where the words were about to burst from your chest, overwhelmed by the love you felt for him. But you knew it would never work - he wasn’t interested. And, even if he was, you were nowhere near his league. Even his one night stands were straight off the Forbes 500 list. Not that you were ashamed of yourself or who you had become, you just knew, for many reasons, that there was a disconnect there. He wasn’t interested. You were family. You had to keep it that way.

You steeled yourself to get over it, to be okay with just being his friend. And you had convinced yourself it worked. You had met his girlfriends over the years; no longer tearing yourself apart in comparison as you blossomed into that confidence that comes with getting older and finding your place in the world. Falling into relationships with some really great guys, guys that you really cared for, who made you laugh and met your family on your birthdays. But no matter how hard you tried, those relationships always seemed to fizzle out because you never felt that spark. That once in a lifetime spark. That spark you felt the second you saw him yesterday - a smile blooming across his face as his arms lifted up in a cheer when he locked eyes with you. All that hard work shot to shit in an instant.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head more fiercely, desperately trying to get those memories to fall out of your head forever. “That’s not how he sees me, Mum. It’s not - this is just something I have to get over. But I can’t do it here.”

Her face fell, before she took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Okay,” she said, looking at you with new determination. “So, what’s the story? Work emergency? Appendicitis? Stomach virus? Uncontrollable pooping?”

“Mum! Oh my god!”

“What?!” she shrugged, her eyes glowing with a playful twinkle as she watched the smile grow on your face. “I just feel like the more details we provide, the more believable it will be.”

“Whatever you have to do,” you said, rolling your eyes as you pulled her into another hug.

“It’ll be okay, lovebug,” she whispered in your ear. “This pain won’t last forever. He’s not the be all, end all.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” you said softly, tightening your arms around her, unable to stop yourself when more tears began to fall. “I really have to get going, I don’t want anyone to see -”

Suddenly, the sounds of the party got progressively louder as the doors swung open. Your stomach sank as you heard the last voice you wanted to hear. “There you are! Been looking all over for you two. Ang? - Oh. ”

“Yeah?” Your mom turned to face him, blocking you from view as you furiously wiped away your tears.

“Mum’s been looking all over for you. Something about a bet involving tequila shots…”

“Ah, was hoping she’d forget about that. Tell her I’ll be in in a bit, just need to help this one -”

You cleared your throat, keeping your head down as you nudged her forward. “No, Mum, it's fine. Go in. I’ll be okay.”

She turned to look at you, eyes searching. “But you’re not feeling. well.” She emphasized her point by placing her hand on your forehead. Oh, god. No Oscar in her future then.

You looked at her, feeling his eyes on you, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Really. Have fun”.

“Love you.” She kissed you on the cheek as she squeezed your hand, whispering, “Be brave”.

You kept your eyes to the ground as you heard her walk inside, closing the doors behind her. Enveloping the two of you in silence. You looked up, taking him in for the first time all night. He knocked the wind out of you.

His white suit was tailored to perfection, the dress shirt open in a deep v down his chest, revealing the smattering of tattoos that you swore he’d regret one day, but that only looked perfectly in place as his muscles grew more defined. His hair, curls tousled just the way you liked it. The smattering of scruff along his chiseled jawline, held tightly as he took in the scene in front of him. He looked good.

You can’t imagine what you looked like. Tear tracks streaking down your face and hair messy from how often you had been nervously running your hands through it. Dressed for a cocktail hour while wearing your sneakers for the quick getaway. You had to get the fuck out of here.

“Thought only the bride was supposed to wear white.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. This was not the time for banter. You should be in the car already, leaving all this behind you. You snuck a look at his face, his green eyes locking with yours, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He looked right at you, his deep voice rumbling as he shot back, “Wanted to be dramatic. It’s my day too.”

“Classic H.” you said. You could not get your feet to move. Your car was no more than 10 paces away and yet here you were, frozen under his questioning gaze.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, as he took in your suitcase, the car keys fiddling around in your hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Uh, a work emergency came up.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it’s not -”

“Your mum just said you weren’t feeling well.”

Shit. “Both things are true. H, please just - I have to go.”

“No, I think I have the right to know why my best mate is leaving my wedding weekend early. Why you’re standing out here with your mum and - are you - were you crying?” He looks desperately confused, eyes searching your face. “Need you to talk to me.”

He takes a few steps towards you when he notices your hands visibly starting to shake. “Hey, hey…” He reaches his hands towards yours as you quickly put your hands on your suitcase, pulling it towards you. You take a few steps back and try to take a few steadying breaths.

“Please,” your voice was barely a whisper. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice when you're gone. Haven’t been able to find you all night, I’ve been trying to hang out with you. Wanted to spend time with you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the look on his face, trying to not think too hard about those words. Trying to be casual, nonchalant. Trying to be anything but the crumbling mess you were in front of him. “C’mon, I’m not even in the wedding party it’ll be better -”

“Is that what this is about? You knew we were keeping it small on purpose, didn’t think you needed to be in the bridal party to know how much y’mean to me but I guess–”

Anger suddenly swirled in you, turning your cheeks warm, eyes blazing. As if you’d be out here having a full mental breakdown over something so trivial. You scoffed, “You think I’m out here crying because of some arbitrary fucking title? You know that’s never mattered to me when it comes to you.”

“Then WHAT is going on with you?”

“Can you please just drop it and let me –”

“It’s my fucking wedding, you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. I need you here and you’re just standing outside with your car keys and your fucking suitcase like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing–

“Oh my god, how can you even say that – ”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? I’m flying blind here you won’t TALK to me–”

“I CAN’T WATCH YOU MARRY HER!”

The words were loud, louder than you meant them and out faster than you could stop them. Fuck. This was. Not. How This. Was supposed to go. You shut your eyes. Your mind was racing, mouth trying to move to make an excuse but you couldn’t think of anything and then you hear a derisive snort, your eyes flying open to see his, suddenly colder, taunting.

“‘S that what this is about, then? Never did like her, did you? Always wondered when we’d have this conversation. Thought you may have been a little more fair and try to do it before my wedding weekend but hey, guess I’m not the only one who can be dramatic.”

You stood there, gaping at him, tears pricking your eyes as he glared back at you.

“Let’s hear it, then. What’s so wrong with her?”

Oh, he misunderstood. You could let him think this is the truth, that you’re just some bitchy childhood friend who never approved of the fiancée and waited until the last moment to make a dramatic exit. You could leave right now and let him think that. But he needed to know the truth, as painful as it may be. You began to shake your head, the tears seconds from pouring out.

“No, that’s not - you’re not understanding me.”

“Am I not? Seems pretty clear to me” His tone was still taunting, angry. He had every right to be. This was supposed to be the biggest weekend of his life and here he was, out here with you, instead of partying with all of his loved ones mere feet away. The thought of it made the tears spill over, a small sob escaping you. Through the tears you saw his face drop, his brows furrowing.

“It’s not her. She’s lovely. She’s so lovely and you should be in there with her. You could be marrying fucking Beyonce and I wouldn’t be okay with it. I … I can’t watch you marry someone else without - without wishing it was me instead.”

You watched as he froze, his eyes widening. In shock? Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure.

You took a deep breath and kept going, continuing to dig yourself into the grave of your own making. Every part of you was screaming at you to stop, but now that you got started, the words kept coming, “I’ve been in love with you since we were like 15. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I…god, I can’t breathe when I look at you sometimes. You’re the first person I want to make laugh with a new lame joke, the first person I want to share good news with. The first person I want to do anything with. You’re kinda it for me. Always have been. You’re just my favorite person in the world. And I –”

You shook your head, cutting yourself off. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest, your cheeks burning. You stand there, slightly panting, watching him watch you, his own eyes glassy, his own breath coming in fast spurts. Neither of you dared to move.

You stand there, watching as your confession explodes between the two of you, helpless to do anything but stand in the carnage. It is deadly silent. A minute passes, then another. It could be five, it could be twenty. What did you just do?

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.”, you said frantically, your brain finally catching up to your mouth. “You should go back inside. I’m –”

He inhales sharply, head shaking in disbelief, “Y’think - y’think I’m going to go back in there right now? After–? Fuck.”

He drags his hand down his face, bringing his other hand to meet it and standing there with his head in his hands. You wish you could get a good read on him, to tell how he’s feeling, but you just stand there, heart beating wildly, in disbelief of what you have done.

“I’ve got a reception hall full of people here.”

“I know.”

“People traveled for this.”

“I know.”

“Why - why now? I had no fucking idea. Why’d you never tell me before?”

“I tried, but the timing was never right – ”

“Yeah, well, your timing right now is impeccable,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, though his sense of humor reappearing made a zing of hope run through you. Maybe he won't hate you forever. Maybe, one day, the friendship could be salvaged. Maybe you didn’t just embarrass yourself beyond belief - though your burning cheeks indicate otherwise.

He clears his throat, pulling you out of your racing mind. “This whole time…you’ve felt this way? This whole time?”

You had been expecting to confess and run. For him to smile politely at you, let you down easy. You had spent your whole life believing this was a one sided thing. But here he was, looking utterly wrecked, his green eyes never once wavering from yours.

“Yes, H,” you told him. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

You watch as his face crumbles slightly. He brings a hand up to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, a mumbled, shaky “fuck” leaving his lips.

You clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, praying your waterproof mascara is doing its job. As much as you want to live in this fantasy of possibilities, you can’t let yourself make more of a mess of this than you already have. He was getting married. Tomorrow.

“H, the last thing I ever wanted to do is ruin this for you”, your voice shakes the more you look at him, “I will be fine. You should go back inside. I’m going to go.” You grab your suitcase and keys and start to make your way to the car. The sound of his voice calling your name stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking.

You turn to face him, finding him staring right back at you. His glassy eyes ablaze, his jaw set. You don’t make a sound.

“Please.” He closes the distance between you in a few quick strides. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand to your jaw. You’re sure he can feel the warmth there, blooming at his touch. You lock eyes with him, both of you barely breathing. After a second, his thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes fluttering closed. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his hot breath on your lips, the smell of mint and tequila filling your nose. You might pass out.

“This is a lot to process,'' he whispers.

“I know.” You try to pull your head back a bit to give him space, but he holds you steady in his grip. His other hand falls to your waist, both of you inhaling sharply at the contact.

“I have to go back in there. Supposed to get married tomorrow,” he whispers as his thumb starts to draw circles on your hip bone. You’re sure even he can hear your heartbeat at this point, the way it’s thundering in your ears.

“Y-you don’t owe me anything, you know”, you whisper back, his brow furrowing as he feels your breath on his lips. “Just because I told you. There’s no pressure or anything. I know, like… I’m not….I’m not expecting - I should -”

He takes a step closer to you, pulling you flush against him, effectively cutting you off. “Don’t. You can’t. ‘S not pressure, I just - I don’t know”, he takes a deep breath, “I need time. Please. Don’t leave. You don’t have to go back in there but don’t leave tonight. Please.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“Please.” His words fall across your lips as he moves to kiss your other cheek.

“Fuck. I wish…just - please don’t go.” He leans in slowly, kissing you once on the neck, right below your ear, inhaling deeply. His forehead falls to your collarbone, resting there. “You can’t go, not yet. Not until…Please. I need time to think. I don’t know. Promise me you’ll still be here later tonight.”

He lifts his head, holding eye contact with you until you nod, bringing your hand up to wrap around his wrist, moving your thumb in soothing circles. He stares at you, eyes dropping to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. His grip on your hip tightens, his eyes dropping to your lips once more.

You hear glasses tinkering, calls of his name. Shit. You take a step back, his hand sliding from your jaw to your wrist, holding a loose grip. Your cheeks burning at how caught up in the moment you got, head reeling at what this could all mean.

“I have to -” “I know.”

He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead, not once letting go of your wrist.

He steps back, his glassy eyes flitting all over your face before meeting yours once more and holding your gaze. “You’ll be at the hotel later tonight? You promise?”

“I promise,” you say, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

He nods sharply, walking backwards towards the door, eyes never leaving yours. He stops right before the entrance, quickly wiping at his eyes, shaking his head. You can see him physically brace himself as he pulls the door open, a tight smile on his lips as he gets pulled into the party once more.

The doors close, once again surrounding you with silence. With your own thoughts. The feeling of his lips on your neck playing over and over again in your mind.

Holy. Shit.

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 1: Before the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.

warnings: It's the Daisy Jones and the Six!AU, Enemies to friends to lovers, Love triangles, sex, drugs, rock and roll, etc., fake relationships, bad parents all around, era-typical misogyny and sexism, mentions of reader's looks (as being very beautiful), partially interview format, no use of YN

AN: Hi, if you're a longtime TCGU reader, please read this note from me explaining this new format. If this is your first time coming across This fic, welcome! Please enjoy my attempt at a Daisy Jones and the Six!AU with some Fleetwood Mac-messiness thrown in.

MASTERLIST🎸

Prologue 🎤

WC: 8.6K

***

STEVE: Right, so I just start talking into this microphone thing?

INTERVIEWER: Yes, but you need to introduce yourself first.

STEVE: You know who I am, we’ve known each other for—ah, okay, okay sorry. I’m Steve. Harrington, obviously. Former lead singer and guitarist of The Downsides. So, uh, where do I start?

INTERVIEWER: The beginning—tell me about how you first got involved with music.

STEVE: Right, okay, I can do that. I grew up kinda lonely. My dad was this big real estate investor but we lived in Indiana of all places, so he was always traveling. I don’t think I remember him ever being home for more than a month straight growing up… and my mom was there but she wasn’t there, ya know? She drank a lot and spent a lot of time in bed, that sort of thing.

***

1962-1972, Los Angeles California

Your childhood is a lonely one but it’s also a boring and predictable one.

Born in sun-soaked LA to a movie director father and his much younger model wife, two people who didn’t know each other well enough to either love or hate the other. They maintained a similar distance in their marriage as the one they tried to uphold in their individual relationships with you, their child.

So, your infancy was spent in a rotation of different nanny’s arms with your parents’ presence only dotting the periphery of your life. Who could blame them, after all? Infants are so contrived and boring compared to the big, wide, world of art that was Los Angeles in the 1960s.  Your parents were far too busy trying to cement their legacy in the art they created and inspired to spend too much time looking after you.

(Much later in life, you would find yourself wondering if your parents ever saw the irony  in the fact that your art ended up eclipsing their entire existence in the end and their only legacy was that of being your parents.)

As a child, however, you spent little time thinking of legacy and instead spent your time trying to feel less lonely.

***

STEVE: When I was a kid I would wonder why my parents even had me. Sorry, that’s like a total bummer thing to say during an interview. But it’s true. And you said to tell the truth. I never felt wanted by them. Until I got famous, and even then… but that’s not new,  a lot of kids grow up feeling lonely, right?

***

The employees who raised you were nice enough, but they saw you for what you were: a means to an end. A paycheck with big, sad, beautiful eyes that may beget sympathy, but they couldn’t get too close to.  The children you came to meet at your elite California private school seemed palatable enough at first, but the more you interacted with them, the more you found yourself at a loss. It was like they spoke a secret language you did not know—a language of price tags, and ever-changing hierarchies and thinly-veiled insults. One that your mother spoke perfectly, but never bothered to pass down to you.

You end up turning to books instead. The home library your father kept up for appearances’ sakes became your favorite room in the house and your teenage growth spurts were fed by any and all novels you could get your hands on from historical biographies to soapy romances, you read them all.  You loved them all, but you loved poetry the most— emotive and raw in ways you were unfamiliar with. You liked the way the syllables rolled gracefully into one another and how each word served a purpose—compact with meaning and so unlike the people around you who were so careless with their words.

As you began to age, and the meaningless mess of childhood shifted into the sharpness of adolescence, you began to write yourself. One day, somehow you had the idea of putting your poetry to music. If you could write songs good enough to be played on the radio then maybe you could earn people's adoration through your art like your parents had, you reasoned. Maybe you could even earn their adoration. You beg your parents for piano lessons, and they scoff at the thought.  “But what’s the point of having one if no one can play it?” You ask, referencing the piano in the grand foyer.

“That piano is not meant to be played,” your mother explains, slowly, “it’s meant to be admired by our guests.”

She walks away from the conversation before you can even protest.

Instead of giving up, though, you went to the library and borrowed all the books you could on music and piano playing and slowly began to teach yourself. You were not very good, at first, and both your parents made a habit of reminding you whenever they were around to hear you practicing. Luckily, they were rarely around.

***

STEVE: My parents signed me up for every single activity and extra-curricular you can think of: karate, basketball, pottery.   The one that really stuck though, was guitar lessons. Soon, that was the only thing I wanted to do it was something I was actually good at. Not something I had potential in, not something I was passable at. It was something I was good at. My dad did not like the idea of me going into music at first—he wanted me to take on a “manlier” hobby—but even he couldn’t deny that I was talented, and he sent me to this specialized music school in Indianapolis. That’s where I met Robin. That’s when I stopped feeling so alone.

ROBIN: Robin Buckley, brass, bass, and synth for The Downsides.

I met Steve when we were thirteen, I think, at this fancy music school in Indianapolis. I was there on scholarship.  I’m not going to lie, he was obnoxious, but most thirteen-year-old boys are. Even then, though, there was something about him that made everyone want to be his friend. He was also really talented. He never had to work very hard to be good at something, but he worked hard anyway. I hated him at first, but he wore me down and we eventually became best friends.

***

1978

Your music became a good outlet for all your loneliness and anger and disappointment, but it was not a cure for any of those things. You craved friendship and commonality and to be liked beyond the surface.

One day, when you were towards the end of seventeen, you decided to go exploring. You had heard Emily Cooke whispering salaciously in the girls’ bathroom at school about sneaking into the Whiskey A Go-Go to see The Six playing and an idea began to blossom.

Your home was only a walking distance from the Strip, the aptly named piece of street that was lined with clubs and musical venues, so that day, after hearing Emily’s plan you decided to try your luck at the Whiskey. You loved music, after all, and you wanted to be good at it, like the musicians that played there. Plus, there were others that shared those interests and the was a chance that some of them would be more tolerable than Emily Cooke.

You waited in line, by yourself, donning an outfit that you hoped made you look older than you were in an organic, cool way. When you made it to the doorman, you smiled trying to look more confident than pleading. His eyes raked over your body once, then twice and you resist the urge to flinch away. You had known then that you were beautiful—mostly because it was the only thing your mother valued in you— but what you hadn’t known was how far just being beautiful could get you. The doorman had let you in the club, not even questioning when your voice wavered while you had told him you were older than you actually were.

***

ROBIN:   Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but Steve was my first kiss.

INTERVIEWER: Uh, Robin?

ROBIN: Oh, right…. Well, whatever, Steve Harrington was my first kiss. He was also the first person I told that I liked girls. I knew from a really early age that I didn’t find men attractive but when Steve kissed me at our high school dance I had this immediate realization and I sorta burst out, “Steve, I like girls.” It was a really great moment of self-awareness for me—growing up as a girl, they always try to put you in this box of like feminity and being whatever men wanted you to be, including an object to be looked at or pawned over. I didn’t know how being gay fit into all that, until that moment.

I don’t think it was that great of a moment for Steve, though.

STEVE: She told you about that? Well, for the record, it wasn't that I wasn't happy for her, it's just when you're a teenage boy and if your first crush admits she's a lesbian moments after you kiss her for the first time, well, it does not do your ego any favors, does it?

***

The moment you walked through that door, your life became severed in two: the before and the after. You watched, from the fringe of the crowd, as Billy Dunne crooned soulfully, and the audience sang his own words back to him.

You briefly imagine yourself on the stage, being someone that people would actually want to come see, someone that people would listen to. Someone people would love.  

***

STEVE: I always knew I wanted to be in music. It was the only thing that ever made sense. Wait, no, that’s not right… It’s the only thing that ever made life make sense. So, I started working at it, like seriously working it at, when I was 16. I bought as many records as I could, figured out what I liked, what I could do, and I practiced all the time. Like all the time. Robin did, too. I would play the guitar and sing, and she was insane on the trumpet and bass. I don’t think we ever sat down and had a conversation about whether we wanted to form a band or even what we wanted for ourselves in the future. We just always knew it was going to be the two of us, and we were going to be making music. Of course, you can’t have a band with only a guitar and a trumpet, so we had to start looking for more members.

***

1980

From that point on, your life had purpose.

You began to study everything about music—obsessively. You collected records, you played the piano until your fingers became cramped and sore or until your mother yelled at you to stop.

You filled notebook after notebook with lyrics, some good, many bad.

But you also kept your eyes on the tabloids and the gossip rags and the fashion magazines. To be a successful musician, you had to be good of course, but you also had to be well-liked. Growing up in the environment you did had given you a very unique perspective on this. Since infancy, you had seen hopeful artists-to-be approach your father for a chance, or ask your mother for advice. The most successful of them were not always the ones who had the best things to say, but those who said what they had to say in the best way.

 You practiced giving fake interviews in front of your mirror and in the shower. You stayed on top of trends and bought the best-fitting clothes. And most importantly, you tried to associate yourself with all the right people.

By the time you turned 18, you were well-known, even beyond the Strip. Photos of you standing next to the bass player/drummer/guitarist/lead singer of whatever band might have been riding a momentary wave of popularity at the time began to appear in tabloid magazines.

Most of them were men. Most of them wanted something out of you. You became a master in the art of giving just enough for them to think they had a chance with you if it meant that you could learn from them or convince them to listen to one of your songs. But every time you would even mention the idea that you wrote music, you would come hit a wall of patronizing, feigned interest followed by a grab at your chest.

Then came Jason Carver. Lead singer of the Letterman’s, Jason Carver. You dated him for a few weeks, right after you had turned 18. He was 25 and just charming enough for you to overlook his frequent condescension. Plus, he had promised that he would teach you a few chords on the guitar.

One day, you had come over to his apartment and he was getting all worked up because the band’s label was on his ass about writing a song and he couldn’t quite get it right. He needed to write a love song, something introspective and sweet but Jason could only churn out party anthems and songs meant to be played in dive bars.

Eventually, after hearing him gripe for what seemed like an eternity, you sent him off to take a shower and in the meanwhile compiled all of his shreds of half-lines and began to work filling in the gaps. Forty minutes later, you had a solid chorus and first verse to present to him for a song you thought should have been called “All At Once”. You thought that this would’ve made him happy, after all, you had gotten him one step closer to a possible song. (And maybe, you had secretly hoped, in all of his gratitude he could be swayed to give you a writing credit on the song).  Instead, he laughed at you like you were a child pretending to do an adult task and asked you to leave with a hasty promise that he would call you later that week. He never called. The hurt you felt was only a pin-prick. Six months later, you heard The Letterman’s on the radio: a new song by them called, “All At Once”. You tried to convince yourself for a moment that there would be no way that Jason could blatantly steal your song after having mocked you for even trying to write. But, boy, were you wrong. Those were, in fact, your lyrics, on the radio. Yes, the band had added another verse but, ultimately, your lyrics were all there. The same lyrics Jason had so easily dismissed six months prior.

That was when you realized if you were going to get ahead in the industry, you were going to have to play dirty, like Jason Carver.

***

 ROBIN: We met Argyle in Chicago. Once we graduated high school Steve and I started working as subs for small bands in the Midwestern circuit. Yes, it was as grim as it sounds, but it paid the bills and helped us meet people. Argyle was the drummer of some Reggae band that needed a bass player for a few weeks when their bassist got arrested on possession charges. I subbed in and was immediately super impressed by his skills. People always underestimated Argyle, to this day, because of the whole vibe he gives off, you know? But he’s smart and adaptable. Anyway, when his bassist lost his case, the band broke up indefinitely and I tried my best to convince Argyle to join Steve and me. There were two of us, we’d never played an official gig, and we didn’t even have a name, but Argyle said yes. Next was Nancy. We held open auditions for a keyboardist once Argyle was onboard. After five passable auditions, Nancy Fucking Wheeler walks in in this long skirt and bows in her hair. She had a book of Debussy sheet music for God’s sake. I almost burst out laughing when I saw her because I thought she must have been lost but then, in true Nancy Wheeler fashion she blew us all away. Ugh, was that woman talented. And gorgeous. Steve’s jaw had to be crane-lifted off the floor, it was love at first sight.

STEVE: It was not. She’s exaggerating.

1980

Ironically, you met Murray Bauman at one of your parents’ parties.

You knew he was a music producer for Starcourt Records because he kept loudly boasting to his date about it. The same Starcourt Records that the Letterman’s were signed on to.

You waited until he was two gin martinis in and standing alone admiring your father’s latest art purchase before you approached.

“Hello,” you said, brandishing a dazzling smile, your whole body angled and ready to perform this familiar dance.

“Aren’t you the producer for the Letterman’s?”

He shot you a grin that borders on swarmy and said, “why yes, I am and you look like you’re out past your bedtime.”

You didn’t react to his statement and instead marched onwards, “I loved their latest song, ‘All At Once’ right? It’s so romantic.”

“Between you and me, I’m not sure how Carver popped that one out, he’s a bit of a meathead if you catch my drift.”

He didn’t wait to see your reaction before laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah, actually, I’m not surprised to hear that considering I dated him,” your eyes flashed in a way that you hoped came off as dangerous, “and that I wrote that song.”

He regarded you for a moment before breaking out in a laugh. When he saw your expression remained unchanged, he stepped back in assessment.

“Oh shit, you’re being serious.”

You only nodded grimly.

“Okay, well that’s a new one. Usually, girls come up claiming that one of those idiots impregnated them, not this.”

He regarded you again, searching for a trace of a lie. He sighed, “So let’s say that you did write the song, which, knowing what I know about those Neanderthals, I am willing to entertain the possibility of this being at least partially true, then what does that mean? You’re going to blackmail Starcourt? Do you want money?”

You gestured vaguely behind you, sure that he must have known who your parents were. “I don’t need money.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I write music. Obviously. I want to write for your label.”

A grin broke out across his face, “Oh, boy.” He started to laugh: a deep chuckle that floated up from his belly.

“You and every other Joe Schmoe in Hollywood, sweetie.”

“But not every other Joe Schmoe wrote a song for one of your most popular bands.”

Murray regarded you again, he gave you a look you’re all too familiar with. One that says he did not expect such a fight in such an unassuming package.

“Here’s the deal,” you start, taking his brief lapse to pounce, “all I want is for you to take my demo tape and listen to it, like actually listen to it. Do that and we never have to mention this again.”

“And if I say no to your little proposition?”

You smile at his question before offering a small piece of paper, “Then here’s the business card to my lawyer he’ll be reaching out.”

This, puzzlingly, makes the man burst out laughing once again.

“Let me get this straight, you just want me to listen to your tape? That’s the grand blackmailing scheme? No record deal, no music video?”

You shake your head in response, “No, I think my music speaks for itself. I just need to get it in front of the right person.”

Murray’s still chuckling to himself as he extends his hand out signaling for you to drop the tape you are now holding in his hands.

“Fine, but you are one shitty blackmailer.”

You were signed to Startcourt Records a month later.

***

STEVE: Once Nancy joined, we were a band, and so we needed a name. I suggested the Steve Harrington experience but the girls shot me down like, right away. We ended up fighting about names for like an hour. It was actually Argyle who ended up coming up with our name. The Downsides, he had said, since we were all so negative about everything. He had said this after Robin had said I was 'all hair and no brain'. Not the best of origin stories, I guess. But we liked it and that’s how we became The Downsides.

***

NANCY: Nancy Wheeler, former keyboardist for The Downsides.

  I had been playing piano since I was eight, it was just one of those things my parents signed me up for to make me more well-rounded for college applications but I ended up loving it more than they had hoped.

I auditioned for the band on a whim, I was going to Indiana State at the time, getting my teaching degree but I loved playing the piano more than I would ever love being a teacher. To be honest, when I auditioned, I didn’t think they were going to take me, not even after I saw they had another girl in the band. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I had the talent for it, I just didn’t necessarily give off Rock and Roll vibes, but they accepted me anyway.

  I had a feeling Steve liked me from the moment we met, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him then. He’s Steve Harrington for God’s sake. Girls had posters of him up on their walls for the better part of the 80s. I just—I didn’t want people to think I got the spot because I was involved with the lead singer. I wanted people to know that I earned my place through talent. Steve was really disappointed when I turned him down, but he was always really respectful about it.

  That didn’t mean he stopped being interested or that I didn’t feel his eyes on me during every rehearsal in the summer of ‘81.  

1981

Of course, you knew that when you had been signed to Starcourt Records it wasn’t completely because of your talent.

You had started to wonder, however, if Starcourt had given you a shot because they didn't want to risk litigation or maybe because those record execs had seen your name floating around in a magazine or, more importantly, your picture.

The more you thought about it, the more insecure about your place you had felt, like an imposter among others who had earned their spots. But, after one week of rubbing shoulders with the musicians over at Starcourt, you realized that to be able to make it, you were going to have to ooze confidence, even if that confidence was fake.

***

NANCY: We started playing gigs together around the Midwest. In the beginning, we mostly played covers but eventually, we started writing our own music. I’m not a great songwriter and, to be frank, neither is Steve, so a lot of the stuff we were coming up with was pretty simple but it worked for us. We went from playing weddings to actually getting gigs that paid money. I mean it was barely enough to cover gas to get there but it was something. I guess, for the sake of transparency, there is one more thing I have to talk about while we’re talking about this time in the band’s life.

Steve and I spent a lot of time writing music together. It was great, being able to get close. I thought we were becoming friends. He was still a bit hung up, though and one night, when we were up late writing at his tiny apartment, he kissed me. And I kissed him back.

The next day, I told him that that couldn’t happen again. I gave him my reasons and he respected that but still, I could tell he was crushed. I think that between the kiss and us having this talk, he had begun to hope that something would happen between us.

I think that’s what made me and Jonathan hurt him so much more. 

1982

You didn’t necessarily like Murray when you first began to work with him but you did trust him. In the professional capacity at least. He never tried anything with you, which you appreciated although that bar was abysmally low.

You hadn’t known what to expect on your first day in the studio but you had a feeling that as far as the music was considered, you were in decent hands.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

The moment you had stepped into the studio, Murray had handed you a stack of music, all unfamiliar and definitely nothing you had written.

“What’s this?” You had asked, eyes crinkling in confusion.

“A few contenders for an EP. The team over at marketing came up with some branding concepts and this is what we landed on.”

He then pulled out a thick folder overflowing with pictures of what you assumed the studio had wanted to mold you into. It was all bubblegum and teased hair and not at all what you had envisioned.

“Wait, Murray, I don’t understand.  I have a brand, one that I've spent a lot of time curating along. This isn't me and this is definitely not my music.  You said I could sing the music that I’ve written.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Murray hummed, condescendingly, “I never said that.”

“Well, if I can’t sing my music then I just won’t sing at all.” You were the full image of a petulant child, arms crossed and lips dangerously close to a pout.

Murray feigned concern for a moment before hunching down so that he was at eye level with you.

“You signed a contract,” he spoke slowly, “Starcourt owns you, and if you don’t like it, then talk to a judge.”

He turned away from you, leaning against the mixing console. He speaks again after what seems like an eternity.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not saying it’s ethical or right, but if you want to make it in music, you got to play the game. You can’t come in here, swinging your metaphorical dick around, calling the shots when you haven’t proven you can rake in the dough.

“Sure, you’ve got talent, but who doesn’t? Right now, there’s a line of girls around the block who can sing and write and are probably better at following directions, waiting to take your spot.

"Plus, I read the songs you sent over, you have some good lines but there's not a single song worth attaching Starcourt's name to. Take this as an opportunity to learn, to be better, to actually work for something for the first time in your life. You have nothing right now, so nothing is below you, not even this pop dribble they're giving you to sing.

"I’m not saying it’s always gonna be this way, but you have to prove to them that you can play before they take you seriously, and then if you got what it takes, you can start writing your own music. Hell, if you make them enough money, they’ll let you play the fucking didgeridoo and go out in a nun’s habit… well, maybe not the habit, but the point stands. So, can we stop acting like the spoiled princess we are for just one afternoon and get to rehearsing?”

You snatched the book of songs from his outstretched hand and with a smile on your face, tore it down the middle before stomping off.

It had taken five days of Murray, along with various other executives at Starcourt, pounding on your door at the Chateau Mormont—the hotel that was your permanent residence since you had turned 18— before you had even considered setting foot in Starcourt again.

All it took was a gift basket full of Champagne and half a dozen threatening letters from their legal team.

***

NANCY: Jonathan came on as our second guitarist. I remember when he came to the audition he was this quiet, super shy kid who barely managed to make eye contact, but once he had a guitar in his hands, he had this way of coming alive. He wasn’t a showman like Steve, but he was electric when he played.

We—I never meant for things to turn out the way they did but with Jonathan, it wasn’t much of a choice. I know this sounds so cliche, but we were drawn to each other. I remember, during rehearsals, even before we really knew each other, he and I would lock eyes from across the room and I would know exactly what he was thinking.

Soon, we were sneaking around together. We were getting more and more serious, it was only a matter of time, honestly, before the others found out. Jonathan wanted to come clean early on, he could tell it was causing me so much stress, but I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Part of it, was Steve, of course, but also, what Jonathan and I had felt precious and personal and ours. I wanted to stay in this bubble we had built for ourselves.

Of course, it was Steve and Robin who eventually caught us, making out in Jonathan’s car after rehearsals one day.

To say that Steve took it hard is probably an understatement. He skipped rehearsal for five straight days and when he showed up he had this new song he had written, this ballad called, “Regret You”.

“If I never had you, then why can’t I forget you / I hate myself because I could never regret you.”

Yeah, that was an awkward one to rehearse but, to his credit, it was a great song. It was the song that got us noticed.

1982

You had spent months recording your first EP, a five-song collection the studio had decided to name “The Setlist”. It was meant to be a play on your groupie status, or at least that’s what some intern over in the marketing department had claimed, a little too proud of himself for your liking.

While you couldn't ignore the sense of accomplishment that bubbled below the surface, you mostly felt empty. 

The whole thing made you think of your father, whom you hadn't spoken to in years but had a very staunch view on artistic integrity. He despised artists who 'carelessly churned out poor imitations of real art for money'.  "To make art is as close as one can get to being god," he had explained to you once, with self-important tears in his eyes, "why would anyone sell that off? Art should mean something to the artist. Otherwise, they are a peddler of fake divinity." 

Your father had never had to worry about money a day in his life. 

That empty feeling was only exacerbated when, the Friday after you had officially finished recording, Murray had invited you to lunch with a particular proposition in mind.

“No, Murray, not gonna happen. Over my dead body and all that,” you spat from across the table.

“Listen, I don’t want to pull the contract card on you, but I will,” he warned with no real heat as he swirled his gin martini in one hand.

“Nice try,” you mirrored his pose, martini and all, “but the contract doesn't cover this, only original work. Not duets. You know that, I know that, so why don’t you try again and give me one good reason why I would even consider a duet with The Letterman’s.”

Murray gave you a look you had come to familiarize yourself with—one that was equal measures of pride and annoyance. It was the look he gave you whenever you bested him.

“How about the fact that they’re one of the hottest acts right now and being on a track with them would guarantee you a spot on the charts which is a great place to be at any point in time, but especially when you’re about to release an EP?”

Your face dropped in the way it only did when you knew Murray was right about something you didn’t want him to be right about. A look he had been starting to familiarize himself with.

"Fine, I’ll do it, but I want to spend as little time as possible with Jason. He’s a pompous ass.” “No disagreements there, sweetheart.”

The day you were scheduled to record with Jason and the rest of his band, he was an hour late. You hadn’t doubted for a moment he had done this on purpose.

When he finally had shown, he pretended not to know you, a game you had quickly caught on to, and made sure to respond with, “It’s so nice to meet you, Jackson” after he made a show of introducing himself to you which made the rest of his band and Murray guffaw.

Jason narrowed his eyes at you, his voice struggling to stay level, and said, “Watch it. We’re the ones doing you a favor here, remember?”

“I did you one first,” you responded, your eyes meeting his gaze, “remember?”

It had taken 20 minutes for his bandmates to calm him down, but eventually, the two of you got into the booth.

Your only priority had been to do your best job in as few takes as possible because you did not know how much longer you could tolerate being in Jason’s presence.

In the end, after a two-hour session, Murray had sent you both home, either happy with the finished product or at his wit’s end with the tension. Either way, three weeks later you had a duet with The Letterman’s called “It Was You” and just as Murray had predicted, it was quick to climb the charts.

You were getting noticed.

***

NANCY: Not long after Steve wrote “Regret You” we got noticed by a scout from Starcourt Records. I think at first we thought it was some sort of scheme, but it was legit. They had us record a few demos and in something like six months, they moved us to a house in Culver City.

The whole thing had felt like some sort of fever dream. I had to quit school and tell my parents. They didn’t even know I was in a band. Or seeing anybody. Needless to say, they didn’t take any of it well. When we got to LA, we did more test recordings and they even had us playing some shows at a few clubs on the strip.

Like I said: total fever dream.

But, when you’re under the thumb of a label like that, there are certain stipulations. One of the first things they told us was that they wanted to make our sound more modern and pop. We kinda

had an alternative, experimental sound back then. They said synth was going to be the new thing so they wanted Robin to learn how to play the synthesizer which meant that on certain songs, Jonathan would have to take over for bass. Also, they wanted Steve to be more of a frontman and less of a guitar player. Steve could always work a crowd, and they wanted to use that, especially with this new sound they had envisioned for us. All of this meant we needed another guitar player and, believe it or not, the label already knew who that was going to be. Eddie Munson.

***

EDDIE: Okay, here we go.

 I’m Eddie Munson, lead guitar for The Downsides.

 I  grew up trailer trash in some town that no one’s ever heard of. My mom died when I was eight and my dad was in and out of jail pretty much my entire life--well, until those royalty checks started rolling in, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

  People always use the dead mom/jailbird dad thing to either turn me into a sob story or villainize me, so I generally tend to avoid talking about it but since it's you, I'll say this: the thing I remember most about my mother is her absence and there is not a single redeeming thing about ole' Munson Sr. but I don't think they're responsible for any of the ways I've fucked up over the years. Nah, kid, that was all me.

Let’s get to the good stuff, shall we?

At the tender age of ten, I was gifted an old beat-up guitar by my uncle. Clearly, something he had picked up at the local Goodwill to try and keep me occupied and out of trouble. The neighbors hated us after. They hated us, even more, when it turned out that I could actually play.

When I was 18, Uncle Wayne got the idea that I was ready to commit to a life of indentured servitude over at the factory and that did not sit well with me, at all. I wanted to be a musician. But, instead of talking to him about it, you know, like a rational person? I just ran.

I sold my van and got a one-way ticket to LA. The metal scene was starting to pop up on the strip and music—metal—was the only thing I was good at, so I thought, ‘what the hell!’ and booked it. I slummed it for a few months and then, through some stroke of luck, I heard about a band that was auditioning for a new guitar player since their last one got hitched and quit. The Metal Gods smiled down on me the day of the audition because that same afternoon they called me back and told me they wanted me on as lead guitar.

1982

“It Was You”, your duet with The Letterman’s peaked at number 6 on Billboard’s Top 100 in October of 1982.

Suddenly, everyone wanted you to be featured in their songs. Your EP did well enough, but it didn’t even crack the top 30. That didn’t keep you from being the hot new thing on the scene and a

huge part of that was your reputation.

Of course, people knew who you were because of your groupie days, and you unintentionally built a reputation for being romantically involved with different musicians. So, when you broke out on the scene with a romantic duet, people started talking, and the tabloids began to spin stories about you and Jason being romantically linked which only caused a buzz for the song. You, of course, hated this and vehemently denied being involved with Jason to anyone who would listen. Jason, meanwhile, played it coy with the press, only fueling the rumors and your rage.

“Listen, I hate the guy as much as you do, sweetheart, but you got to respect the strategy,” Murray had said after hearing you gripe about one particularly salacious headline.

Before the year was through, you had been featured in five other duets. All with male artists. All resulting in more and more outlandish dating rumors. And all enjoying a lengthy stay on the top of the charts.

Starcourt had begun to push you to take it a step further and Brenner had asked for Murray to arrange outings between you and whatever male artist you were collaborating with. The meetings—you refused to call them dates—were always somewhere that was strategically public, somewhere where there was always at least one paparazzi with their cameras locked and ready. The pictures they would take would always make it to at least one gossip magazine, which resulted in even more publicity for the song.

Your partners—you refused to call them dates—were, at their best, cordial and business-like, one or two of them even asked for your permission before holding your hand. At their worst, though, they were handsy, entitled, and rude. None of them ever tried to ask you out on a real date and you weren't sure what that said about you.

Soon you were racking up duets and notoriety in equal measures. Radio DJs would make jokes about you every time they would play one of your songs—and they played your songs a lot. Once, while you were walking around Rodeo, a woman stopped you in the middle of the street and told you, very brazenly, that you needed to stop sleeping around so much. Before you could even tell her off, though, she proceeded to gush about how much she loved your duet with The Letterman's.

It seemed like everyone seemed to see you in a similar light though: they thought you were some sort of despicable maneater but all they wanted was more of a reason to talk about how you were a despicable maneater.

Murray had his work cut out for him, “We just need to find a way for you to have this same buzz all the time.”

***

EDDIE: Things started to pick up with Corroded Coffin. We were playing shows pretty much every night.  As I said, metal was on the rise and we were at the forefront. Eventually, record label bigwigs had no choice but to acknowledge that.

Some of them got smart and started poaching bands early on, like Starcourt. Corroded Coffin signed with them in ‘82. We thought we were hot shit after that.

There’s a certain lifestyle that goes along with that, though, you know? A reputation that you have to uphold.

I'm not trying to make excuses for myself here, trust me. I'm just...trying to explain myself.

People always love to talk shit. They'll call you all sorts of names before they see you as an actual person. Trust me, I would know. But, these interviews are an opportunity to set the record straight, to finally be seen as an actual person.

So, there I was, a nineteen-year-old kid from Bumfuck nowhere, finally making it big, finally feeling like I belonged somewhere--like for the first time I wasn't a freak whose mom died or some trailer trash high school dropout--of course, I was gonna get swept up in it all. Of course, I was going to start picking up the bad habits and doing drugs. There was no one there to tell me otherwise.

It started out as something to get us through the madness that was our schedule: between the live shows and the studio time, we needed uppers just to keep us on our feet. Then, obviously, you needed the downers so you could fucking relax because the uppers made you so tense. 

I stopped enjoying the drugs pretty early on, but at that point quitting wasn't something that I was willing to put that much effort into. 

1983

The first time someone asked for your autograph, you were at a show at Whiskey a Go Go. Murray, acting as a sort of manager, had set up a photo opp with Charles Riva, your latest duet partner. He hadn’t shown that night but you never walked away from a live show.

Two girls, not much younger than you, appeared behind you as you were ordering at the bar and tapped you on the shoulder.

“See, I told you it was her,” the shorter one, a strawberry blonde with severe bangs whispered excitedly to her friend, a taller brunette.

Before you could ask either of them exactly what they wanted, the strawberry blonde spoke again, “Can we have your autograph?”

You could only nod dumbly as they handed you a cocktail napkin and a pen. You tried to think of something meaningful to write, but in your shock, could only come up with “Best wishes, xoxo”. You didn’t even ask them their names. The best you could do was offer to buy them a drink, which they happily accepted.

You regretted the offer as soon as you registered how young they looked underneath all that makeup, an observation that made you unsettlingly sad. You were reminded of your first days on the Strip: lonely and young and wanting someone to notice you for the right reasons.

Your thoughts became too heavy to deal with at that particular moment and you abruptly excused yourself, leaving the two confused girls behind. A shame, you thought to yourself, in another life you might’ve all been friends, but no one really wants to be your friend these days. They just want to tell people they’re your friends. Walking away saves everyone the disappointment.

You needed a drink.

By the time the main act had taken the stage, your vision had started to haze at the edges as a result of the multiple drinks you had procured for yourself. You watched, half-interested as a band you’d never heard of, Corroded Coffin took the stage, your eyes tracing after each member, eyeing the things only a fellow musician would: the models of equipment they had, the way the band queued each other up.

You didn't know enough about metal yet to know whether you'd consider yourself a fan or not but even with the little familiarity you have, you can tell this band is good. Their playing is unpolished but overflowing with energy and the crowd is feeding into it, screaming the lyrics along with the lead singer.

All of it reminds you of your first show at the Strip—what seemed ages ago—and that memory summons a whole other thought entirely: the reason that you had gotten into music was to actually make music you liked, not to be a topic of discussion in a gossip magazine, getting no say in the music you created.

You don't even remember the last time you had even written a lyric.

You think to yourself that maybe you should wander backstage after the show, like you once did and talk to the band. Maybe you could pick their brains about songwriting. They clearly didn’t care about mass appeal if they were making metal music which means they were probably doing it for the art.

At the very least they probably had a decent stash of pills.

Either way, it would be worth it.

***

EDDIE: It was pretty much love, at first sight, the moment I saw her in the crowd that night at Whiskey a Go Go. I remember seeing her for the first time halfway through our set and it was like I went blind for a moment. I had completely forgotten what I was doing, I think I even missed a cue. After the show, I made a beeline for the bar where she was standing, trying to act as cool as I could but I was shitting it.

***

Once that band had wrapped up, you made your way to the dressing rooms. You maneuvered to the dressing rooms like you had dozens of times before, but the band wasn’t there.

You milled about for a bit, before growing bored and leaving wondering if maybe they had seen you coming and left.

***

EDDIE: I ordered a drink just as an excuse to get closer and it worked. She was even more beautiful up close and so, so kind. Told me she loved our show and even pointed out specific guitar solos of mine that she liked. She always had a way of making you feel special like that. Chrissy Fucking Cunningham. Even her name was perfect, not a syllable too few or too many.

I asked her for her number that night and we went on a date two days later, I could hardly keep it.

together having to wait two days to see her again. Then, after a few weeks, we were going steady, as the kids say. It was perfect. I never really had anyone to myself, you know? She was the first person that ever made me feel seen and cared about.

I remember one time; she was hanging out at my place while the band was in the studio. When I came back, she had done all my laundry. When I asked her why she had done that, she just said “I dunno, just because” then, all of a sudden there were tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like that for me “just because".

My life had never been better--so of course, I fucked it up.

***

While you did not manage to meet Corroded Coffin, you couldn’t stop thinking about them, even days later. It was like seeing them play had awoken you from a daze you didn’t even know you had been in.

You spend a few days getting incredibly drunk by the pool after that. But no matter how much you drank or how many pretty dresses you bought yourself or how many pill you took, you could not shake the feeling.

A few mornings later, you had called Murray, “This stops now, Murray. No more duets or features or whatever else. I want to meet with Brenner. I want to do this my way.”

Murray, not used to being awake so early, gave a weak attempt at talking you down.

“No,” you urged on, “you said once I started making money, I could have a say. Well, now I’m making money and I’m tired of Starcourt just using me for that. So, I want something permanent and I want to write my own music, got it?”

“You have a contract,” Murray parroted back, half-heartedly.

“Yes, I do, and I plan to honor that contract but so help me God I will make life a living hell for you and for Brenner and any other exec that tries to get me to do another duet with Jason fucking Carver. In fact, I will find a way to lose Starcourt money if you don’t get me out of this. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Great, I’ll see you at lunch Murray.”

He signed, “See you then.”

***

EDDIE: My drug use was getting more out of hand. Chrissy hated it, but I couldn't bring myself to quit. Especially the things that I thought I needed to make it through the day.

Chrissy was a saint throughout the whole thing, until one night when she caught me in the dressing room of Whiskey with a girl who was not her. She walked away and I don’t really blame her. Out of all the regrets of my life—and trust me, kid—that was one of the biggest.

She moved out that day and refused to take my calls, moved in with one of her friends and I spent days just calling her, sending her flowers, the works.

She told me she wouldn’t budge unless I got clean. So, I checked myself into rehab. She was a good enough reason to quit. 45 days later, I checked out, clean as a motherfucking whistle.

Chrissy was gone though, I had no clue where she had disappeared to, but wherever she went, she didn’t want me to find her.

On top of that, my band was fucking pissed. I left the band for 45 days without telling anyone, right as we were finishing recording our debut album. Yeah, they weren’t happy. I was in something called “breach of contract” with the suits over at record label and they wanted to take me to court, and not the Star kind.

I definitely didn’t have lawsuit type of money back then, so it was in my best interest to work something out with Starcourt and jump back on fulfilling my contract. Problem was, Corroded Coffin didn’t want me back anymore, even though the guy they replaced me with wasn’t half as good as I was.

I thought that because my old band didn’t want me, that meant that I would be free of my contract. I was wrong. What actually happened was that my fate was then put into Starcourt’s hands and they could place me in whatever podunk production or band they wanted. They owned my ass.

And that’s how I ended up with The Downsides.

PLAY NEXT TRACK

[lovinbarzal]

DRIVERS LICENSE | trevor zegras

trevor zegras x fem! cooke! reader

a/n this is set in NTDP era and the reader is the daughter of Olivia Cooke who is an exchange student for the following school year and is staying with the Hughes family as her host family <3 and part will be posted sometime this week hopefully!

warnings: strong language and cheating

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

"Trevor, shut up!" Y/n yelled as Trevor roared in laughter. He was attempting to teach her to drive.

"I'm sorry but I can't take you seriously with your accent." He smiled as she rolled her eyes at him.

"I do not have an accent." She said fixing her posture as looking forward.

"Yes, you do." Trevor leaned back in his seat with a smile still set on his face.

She rolled her eyes before continuing to drive forward and trying to park. Once she finished the two got out to examine her parking abilities.

"Oh my god. You cannot park to save your life." He giggled seeing the girl's horrifying parking job. He was crouched in front of the wheels.

"Shut up. I only know how to drive on the other side. Why doesn't America do that?" She said crossing her arms.

"Because Americans are idiots." He said looking up at her.

"But don't worry, you'll learn and then you can come visit me anytime." He said standing up and wrapping his arms around her.

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

She excitedly drove up to the Hughes lake house and honked her horn causing everyone to run out as Jim got out of the driver seat. Y/n got out of the passenger seat with a frown.

"I tried. I really did and I..." She paused, "Passed!"

Trevor was the first to tackle her in a hug and congratulate her. The Hughes brothers following before Ellen.

"Told you." Trevor whispered to her as they all went back to the house.

But today I drove through the suburbs

Cryin' 'cause you weren't around

"Y/n/n, please come out. It's time for dinner." Jack said leaning against the locked door.

Trevor and Y/n broke up. Why? No one knew and neither of them would say anything.

The Summer was over, it was now late Winter, and Jack was supposed to leave back to USA training. She knew she had to come out.

"Hey." He said as she opended the door. He sent her that Golden Hughes smile. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

"Come on, Mom made your favorite." The went down the stairs.

She felt better after dinner. None of the Hughes brought up the breakup or asked her what happened. It was normal. Well, as normal as it gets for a Hughs family dinner. Luke and Jack kept launching pieces of their food at each other before Luke accidentally hit Y/n which led to them all launching pieces of their chicken at each other. Jim and Ellen would've stopped them but seeing the smile that had filled Y/n's face stopped them.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

"Was I not enough?" Y/n aksed Luke over facetime. She had gone back home since her year was over. It was summer again.

"Don't say that." He said rolling over on his bed.

"But look at his instagram. He already has a new girl." She said with tears threatening to escape her eyes.

"And? You are perfect. If he doesn't see that his loss. Plus she's a bitch." He said as she furrowed her brows.

"How do you know?" She said sitting up from her bed. His eyes widened. He was not supposed to mention anything about knowing her.

"She just looks like it." He shrugged off.

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

"He brought her to the lake house, didn't he?" She said tucking hair behind her ear.

"Yeah." He said looking down.

"It's fine." She mumbled.

"You can still come down here, you know." Luke said.

"It's only June. You can stay for the rest of the summer. Mom missed you, we all do." Luke was telling the truth. They all missed you.

"I miss Mama Hughes and all of you but I don't know. What if it's awkward?" She layed back on her bed.

"Then we can avoid them. Plus she barely leaves the guest room." Y/n's brows furrowed.

"She doesn't sleep with Trevor in his room?" She questioned. After Trevor asked her out, they always slept in his room together.

"Nope. She tried to go into your room but Trevor stopped her." He said as Y/n softly smiled.

"You guys didn't turn my room into another guest room?" She questioned.

"Of course not. We wanted to make it a game room but Mom wouldn't let us." He joked.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you, but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

"Please just think about coming for me. I miss my partner in crime." He said.

"I'll think about it." She said as her front door opened signaling that her mom was home.

"My Mum is home. I'll text you." She said before hanging up.

Maybe she should go back.

[lol-jackles]

Is it just a side effect of being somewhat disappointed in who Jensen presents himself in recent years, or is it normal that I find Dean's sad monologues less meaningful and more over dramatic the more times I watch supernatural?

For me, many of the earlier ones hold up well, but him talking to his dad’s grave in What is and What Should Never Be just feels a bit silly now. Like, that’s not even your real dad’s s grave, dude. And the mirror scene in Regarding Dean feels a bit self-indulgent. Even him talking to Mary inside her head just seems like … too much? It’s like I can feel the show going, “Get ready for it … we’ve got a scene coming up where Dean is going to emote all over you! Cue up the one perfect man tear!" Or the whole over the top apology to Castiel in purgatory.

It could just be the natural effect of rewatching, but I often find the emotional monologues less impactful. Yet, I still enjoy watching Jared play soulless Sam, and looking at how different he is from normal Sam. Or seeing how he deteriorated during the trials era.

I guess I’m just wondering if I’m just biased now. Or if there is a more legitimate reason that Jensen’s emotional scenes loose effect on me while Jared’s characterization still fascinated me.

There’s a reason why I didn’t choose the scenes you mentioned for my "Jensen’s best acting" posts.

I suspect the main issue was the lack of organic build up so it felt slightly out of the left field. Look at the ~build up to Dean's emotional conversation to Mary in 12x22:

12x3 - Dean refuse to look at Mary when she tries to day good-bye

12x4 - Dean wonders why Mary isn't calling or texting him

12x6 - Dean wouldn't talk to Mary

12x7 - Dean is angry that Mary isn't calling or texting him

12x12 - Can't remember if Dean and Mary interacted while Sam was killing Ramiel.  

12x13 - Dean bans Mary from the bunker

12x15 - 12x20: Dean is mad that Mary isn't calling or texting him

The saving grace of Dean's speech in 12x22 was it was about how Mary's demon deal had destroyed Sam's life and her death destroyed the family. This speech was a long time coming and it need to happen, but the build up to it should have been better executed.

Dean's apology-prayer in 15x09 also didn't have an organic build up, which was why Jensen comes off as overacting.  They didn't spend any time showing why Benny was such a big deal, he wasn't even in the “Then” portion of the intro, so the general audience had no clue who this Benny is because he was last seen 7 seasons ago. Then this was supposed to be the build up to Dean's apology-prayer: 

Dean: I know you’re sorry about mom

Cas: I’m so over your dead mother. I was talking about Jack

Dean: *shocked pikachu face*

In contrast to 4x11 when Dean revealed to Sam about his time in hell and broke down into an emotional confession how after 30 years on the rack, he broke and took up torturing souls and he liked that.  That breakdown makes sense because the preceding episodes were building up to Dean’s breakdown and he earned the right to do so. 

[gidaryeong]

Sejak episode 16

So daebi said: just marry this crossdressing weirdo that you're sexually obsessed with and have an heir, it's fine idec at this point. And Yi In didn't immediately jump on that but was like, well mom if you want it then I'm NOT going to do it 😤

Since this is the final installment I want to officially thank Sang-hwa for his service to the crown! His loyalty and diligence is only rivaled by his commitment to the bit. One of my favorite scenes in this entire show is the Gay Rumor era where he sprints off with the swiftness of Hermes to fetch the king's boyfriend some candy

I must say I wish they would've talked more baduk when they play baduk. They always debate their real life issues and the game is just something they dabble with in the background, the way I embroider things while watching TV, but they could be meta-talking about baduk strategies in a way that convinces us that this really is their Mutual Obsession while simultaneously shedding light on their personalities. Is Mong-woo an aggressive and haphazard player? Is she more intuitive or more calculating? Has she memorized previous games or does she not have to, because she's operating on Pure Vibes? I still don't know what they're like as players, or if the king is ever close to winning, or if Mong-woo is getting kinda bored of playing against him because he never puts up a real fight. (And how does that then translate to their sexual relationship: she told her dad from the start that she'd only marry someone who could beat her.) In their first game they didn't speak a word because they were so absorbed, and they didn't even notice it had begun to rain -- I liked that much better, because if Mong-woo is the greatest baduk genius in the world then she would be more obsessive about it, almost to the detriment of their relationship, like Beth in The Queen's Gambit. She'd want to go to Qing for the challenge and thrill of playing the Emperor, not (only) for her country and king and father. Okay sorry rant over.

Sometimes I pounce on my partner like this when he's just about to leave for the supermarket and I say "kdrama back hug 🥺" and he's always very patient with this extremely annoying behavior

"I cannot send Mong-woo to the Qing alone. So I'll choose the violent criminal who tried to stab me and instead stabbed her. He'll keep her safe."

Sure this is satisfying but did we have to spend so much time on this when we've got like 45 minutes airtime left to show Mong-woo's life-changing trip to Qing? Let me see her play the Emperor and pretend to lose! Let me see her flirt with the imperial harem and gain friends and enemies in court!!! Also: how did her father react to her crossdressing (since she gave it up when Myung-ha threatened to tell daddy)?

Shin Se-kyung having to teach worthless noblemen on how to start a fire is a must for any sageuk. To me.

It’s actually very sweet that everyone's just treating her like the princess now. But what's going to happen with the real princess? Another thing that they could have wrapped up instead of...

THIS. So writernim introduced this guy as a new threat in the last ep and then resolved it with no tension or conflict. Another thing that we could maybe have just have skipped in favor of Mong-woo Wreaking Havoc in the Imperial City.

PLEASE I don't understand anything!!! So they'll stay together forever now. But Mong-woo doesn't want to be his concubine (she'd resent him). And Yi In has no apparent plans to abdicate (he'll be king until he dies). Is she going to stay on as gidaryeong, and if so, why didn't she return to her station right away but tried to sneak away?

It’s so funny that she just gave up and told him her name anyway lmaooo. She was like baby you'll never beat me let's not pretend ❤️

Despite my ranting I did love this drama very much!! A fantastic set up with a somewhat underwhelming execution is my sweet spot because it means I can write fic about it 🫶

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of May. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Seven, Seven | Explicit | 1877 words

“Hello, baby girl,” Harry says as soon as the nurse places the bundle of joy into his arms. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”

2) A Sunny Afternoon | Explicit | 2002 words

Harry gets together with friends to celebrate life and uses the occasion to announce that he officially has an album finished.

or the celebration of Harry's House before it became what it is now.

3) Five Zero Five | Explicit | 2502 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“So,” says Harry, and his fingers trail on Louis’ jaw, over his exposed neck. “I heard your cover tonight. Arctic Monkeys, really nice.” His fingers linger on Louis’ neck, stroke the Adam’s apple.

4) James Corden’s Lap Better Than Mine? | Mature | 3133 words

James takes Louis onto his lap, and Harry is furious. He cannot wait to get home and punish his kitten and show him Louis his.

5) Where The Water Touches The Sun | Explicit | 3400 words

Prompt #63: L&H in an established relationship where Louis is 5 months pregnant and the pheromones have made him horny as hell, it gets even worse when he wakes up and walks into his kitchen and sees his sexy husband fixing her sink with his shirt off. Maybe he has a fetish for men fixing things. Hot and kinky smut please. Harry calling lou a sexy milf while doing it and obviously the pregnancy kink stuff with h telling l about wanting to keep him full of his babies.

6) Student Teacher | Mature | 3901 words

Request: Louis is... 19 ish and Harry is 24 ish and umm So! Harry was like a student aid for one of Louis's classes in his Senior year of high school and Louis's friends always secretly teased him abt his crush on Harry. it wasn't that good of a secret bc Harry found out about it, he was 23 at the time and found it really funny. Anyways it's a couple of years later and Louis is a freshman in college and runs into Harry at a park while chasing his dog... coco, whos one of those white crusty alleyway dogs. (I love them.) Harry just hears a voice yelling and sees a dog running so he like catches the dog Louis catches up to Harry and he's all like. "omg." Harry looks Louis up and down and he's like "Oh you haven't grown." Louis pouts and then Harry ends up asking him out Louis gets scared and says no, but Harry gets his number anyways and they hang out at Harry's house (haha) as "friends" but they end up fucking on Harry's kitchen island instead of finishing decorating the cupcakes for Harry's goddaughter's bake sale fundraiser?

7) Ahora | Explicit | 4684 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Taylor Swift

Dom Taylor is tired and stressed after one of her shows at the Eras tour. Soft, sub Louis is waiting for her backstage. Rough sex ensues.

8) The Changing Season In A Messy World | Not Rated |8649 words

Prompt #35: H&L alpha son starting to get the teenage moody alpha hormones. One day he release all his anger on his sweet mother when he tried to talk to his son & harry don't really appreciate that. "He might be your mom, but he is my wife first & nobody talks to my wife like that"

9) Hide And Seek | Not Rated | 9808 words

Louis is 14 years old when his father dies and he's 19 when he meets General Styles.

10) Roommates | Mature| 13202 words

"I'm so happy I could kiss you! Thank you so much." Louis smiled up at Harry, who looked back with a daring smirk.

"Then why don't you?"

Louis blushed at that comment and leaned up pressing a gentle kiss to Harry's lips, it was soft and sweet. Something Harry hadn't experienced before.

"Happy?" Louis asked and giggled.

"Very." He answered.

11) Captain Cupid | Not Rated | 15331 words

“Right,” Niall started, finally getting the opportunity to unleash his horrible plan. “Well, as you both know, I’m an excellent matchmaker. A human Cupid.The best of the best at finding one's mate. And I’ve decided it’s time to make money doing it.”

“Oh, God no,” Louis groaned, picking up his empty plate and placing it in the sink. He needed to escape as quickly as possible.

Or the one where Niall enlists his friends to help start a speed dating side hustle. Things don't go as planned... or maybe they do?

12) After Hours | Explicit | 16707 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Pedro Pascal.

Louis Tomlinson is many things. A dancer, a barista, a one time con man. He's rarely experienced a good romantic relationship with a man but that's all about to change when he starts working at a nightclub in Texas.

13) The Mess We Created | Explicit | 21099 words

An innocent one night stand changed into something more than that.

14) Help Me, Help You Find Love | Explicit | 23781 words

“I help people hook up, not fall in love Styles”

“Think you can make an exception for me, Tomlinson?”

The one where they all attend a university for supernaturals and Werewolf Frat president and resident heartthrob Harry approaches on campus matchmaker Louis to help him find love.

15) Until The Pearls Get Lost | Explicit | 25519 words

London, 1933. Harry Styles, alpha, elusive bachelor and happy third wheel to his coupled friends, receives a visit from one Liam Payne, begging for his help.

Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

With rumours swirling around about the reason for the rejected bond, Harry gives in to Liam’s pleas. He hasn’t the slightest idea how that decision will shape the rest of his life.

16) Fetish For My Love | Explicit | 27388 words

Louis has too many worries to even think about a moment of peace in the days that now exhaust him and become a complete rush for him. Fortunately, Harry doesn't take long to take care of the matter as he knows that he has wanted it so much, finding the solution in a particular sheet full of colored stickers.

17) And When It Rains, You're Shining Down For Me | Explicit | 37081 words

“This is Harry, he’ll be your patient,” Liam gestured politely.

Harry froze when Louis’ eyes met his own once more. He felt himself getting lost in those eyes, so much so that he didn’t notice Niall and Liam leaving the room quietly but the sound of the door shutting behind them brought him out of the trance.

“Hello, I’m Louis,” the omega said, extending his hand for Harry to shake. The alpha could still sense some nervousness in his stance but decided to ignore it.

“‘’m Harry.”

Or the one where Harry is a grumpy boxer who gets injured and Louis is the lovely physiotherapist hired to help him, but getting pregnant wasn’t exactly in his recovery plan.

18) Hold Me How the Deep Night Has | Explicit | 48018 words

Louis Tomlinson needs a change. Stuck in a cycle of going to the job he hates, spending time with his friends, and avoiding the one man he hates most in this world, Louis' in desperate need of something new. So when he discovers an abandoned notebook on the way to work, the decision is easy to take it for himself and begin a journal amidst the empty pages. What can't be expected are the words that appear overnight directly beside his own, written on the same day 400 years in the past. What are the consequences of a magical connection between two men of different centuries? And who, among it all, is the mysterious E who only exists on the other side of Louis' journal?

19) Letters | Explicit | 58346 words

Louis lost his Alpha and mate in a deadly accident a year ago. Since then he has been writing letters to better deal with the grief and loss. But suddenly he gets answers from Harry Styles, an Alpha who himself is looking for meaning in life besides his career.

20) Oh, To Be Vulnerable | Mature | 63429 words

Disgruntled nurse Harry is, what some would call, a bit of a loner. Aside from work, he spends most of his time alone, either taking trips to the Boston library or going for walks around Quincy Market, or wallowing in his own sadness. He doesn’t seem to mind too much though. He takes his job seriously, and he likes it enough that he shows up every day, so what could be worth threatening his peace that he has worked so hard to create?

Louis, an overly-chipper and easily excitable orthodontics resident, can’t help but instantly fall for the boy in the photo that Niall shows him. With his education soon coming to a close, he is ready to get back into the dating game, and what a wonderful sight to begin with. The relationship between Harry and Louis has all the highs and lows that typical relationships do, but will Harry learn to trust Louis enough to let him in? And will Louis be able to manage his life turning every which way while also figuring out Harry?

21) LOUIS. | Explicit | 72202 words

“Oh, by the way Harry Styles, my name is Louis, Louis Tomlinson!” And with one last bright smile towards Harry, Louis was gone and out of his sight.

You’re who I've been searching for my whole life.

It's You.

22) You're Umami Baby | Mature | 87427 words

Umami: The essence of deliciousness.

Harry is a chef who never experienced umami until he meets his new dishwasher, Louis.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[geminiskulleta]

This is my very first post, and after seeing all of the lu and loz fanart on tumblr I thought what if all of the zeldas across each era in Hyrule came together linked universe style? I know this isn’t an original thought by any means but I think a story for the zeldas would be super cute and I’d like to show what my take on a Zelda story would be.

I designed a new lullaby (OOT Zelda) and I’d like to see your thoughts on her: Anything I could improve? Anyone else you’d like to see? Please let me know - hope you like it🫶🫶

Lullaby - the queen

Link: Hero of Time

Age: Early 30’s - The same age physically as Time and a year older than Malon.

• She is also known as the princess of destiny, and was surprised to have found out that nearly all of the Zeldas have heard of her and that She and Time became legends.

• The wisest and oldest of all the Zeldas, the unofficial leader.

• Very protective and caring towards the others - seen as the “mom” of the group.

• Holds a lot of regret for her past mistakes and the splitting of timelines (She remembers the events of OOT as she was a past user of the Ocarina. In every instance where time is rewound, she remembers even if it isn’t her that uses it. The same is true with Time.)

• Tries to be a good role model for the other Zeldas as she knows they look up to her, she feels a lot of pressure to be a perfect queen.

• Much less sure of herself than Time, her biggest fear is making mistakes that effect others and constantly second guesses herself. She tries her best to put on a brave face.

•She knows that Fable, Dusk and Tetra are her successors- each from a different timeline, but she is unsure how to tell them.

• She knew about the timeline where she and link lost against Ganondorf and the timeline that she and link had left behind, but never knew what became of it. She was distraught when she found out it had been flooded and turned into the great sea.

•She is able to see into the future, as she grew up her power became much stronger- her prophecies have never been wrong.

•She doesn’t dream anymore: She can only have visions. By closing her eyes and focusing very hard she can see tiny snippets of the future like flashes that will leave her to decipher their meaning, but the only way to get a clear vision is to fall asleep.

• When she has trouble sleeping, she will hum Zelda’s Lullaby, the others never comment on it as they fear she will stop.

•She will always listen to other people’s problems and do whatever it takes to help. She often puts others before herself and is very rarely selfish.

• She shares the trait of being too absorbed in work and pushing herself too far just like Flora. She just doesn’t know her limits when it comes to things such as that and she feels that no matter what she does, it will never be enough

• Needs reading glasses but the others make fun of her and call her Grandma when she puts them on

Relationship with Link:

• As children, she and time were friends but they drifted as they grew up.

• During her time as Sheik she trained hard for seven years; learning how to fight, mastering magic and learning everything there is to know about the temples and how to help link on his adventure.

• She remembers everything from the timeline that Time left, as she was a user of the ocarina. Much like him, she had the opportunity to relive the childhood that was taken from her but she would never be the same again. She was hardened by her and Times adventure. He told her some of what happened in Majoras mask and she felt like she was responsible for everything that happened to their kingdom, to her father, to Link. She began to avoid him due to crippling self hatred and believed that he was a living reminder of her failiures. He was very broken from Majoras mask and was in a dark place in his life. He didn’t care whether anyone stayed or left for a long time and his walls were only broken down when he met Malon again.

• When Lullaby and Time would talk as adults they were very formal and distant with one another. They felt on guard towards one another and didn’t know exactly why, as Time held no ill will towards the queen and Lullaby could never bring herself to hate him.

• As Time matured, his walls were broken down by Malon and he allowed himself to make connections and feel again. But Lullaby never had someone like that to help her through her pain, and she threw herself into her work to become a truly great queen. She was formal and almost robotic to anyone she met.

• As Time allowed himself to heal he would wonder about Zelda, but never reached out. He could never figure out why he was like this, why the thought of seeing Lullaby again scared him, but he was never understanding of his emotions.

• She and Malon are actually great friends and though they’re often too busy to see each other they send letters all the time.

• Fun fact: She planned and officiated Time and Malons wedding. She felt as though she owed it to Time and this is where she and Malon started to get to know eachother.

• She and Time haven’t properly spoken since the wedding. They spoke briefly and Time saw just how closed off Zelda was. He could see that she had been in an awful state of mind but he felt like he couldn’t help her. He wasn’t able to, he wasn’t strong enough.

• the whole ‘ age thing’ effects her too since she remembers the adult timeline. She says she is 34 but she doesn’t exactly know her age.

[cinnamoonn0l]

Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen! Reader

Warning: aegon being aegon, infidelity, smut slight adultery. Aegon is a teenager but is now past 15, reader is 15

 

Note: layers make a series with this, change some dates, ages of characters and events for ease.

Being the only daughter wife of my mother, and at the same time older placed me as the heiress of the iron throne after my mother, puts me in the eye of the hurricane every time they see me.My white hair like the snow highlined from the brown hair of my young brothers, and my purple eyes give it away. They betray the obvious that my grandfather viserys wants not to see. My biological father. But for me it's obvious who it is for my little brothers, no, and that's why I have to protect them.

When I was 2 years old, I was promised to aegon my uncle. Who's older than me. I like it very badly, either because of how disgusting it is and how it sees me every time I cross it to look for my brothers for their training. I'm a little scared.

 Today is one of those days when I have to go get my two brothers to the training they always have.

 I go up to my grandfather, as soon as he sees me he smiles "oh there you are looking at how everyone is training together, in the future you will have children with aegon. As I expressed her words hoping to live a few more years, I could not imagine being married to aegon and having children with him. Just thinking he has to touch me disgusts me.

As I watch how they train I get a smile from how my brothers strive. And I see how aegon stares at a maidservant passing by. It's better that way, mom had told me that our commitment is political not love, but reyna alicent had told me something different.

 "When I came to the deal with your mother the princess, I was in doubt, but when I saw your eyes I saw you half way, I do not like that you are going to marry my son, but if that gets my son on the throne I will have to tolerate you, my son will surely cheat you with a lot of women. Because, you are ordinary, your hair, your body, only your eyes are targaryen, but I do know that you are just as dishonest. Your disgusting brothers will go wrong."

From that talk with the rey, I had to stay quiet, like a "good woman" as I was told everyone, or rather all the men of the council.

So it is, and so I told Leonor, my breast and the Reyon reached that agreement because they wanted to fix some issues, my mother did not have option was that, or marry with a sir or foreign prince and my breast did not want to pass through that, as she told me, at least if I case with my uncle you will be able to protect, from the people of the people who want to hurt me. Aegon was the only "exit" that my mother had that at that time had 4 years.

For that topic throughout my life I had to go through many situations with AEGON by uninstanding that something wants something, or saying perverse things about me. Etc.

While I went down to go to the training patio I see something that I missed a lot. Although it's shy and not talk to anyone unless it is with my brothers and my parents, see that Sir Criston was feeling very crough with my little brother I missed a lot.

As soon as Aegon outlined a flirty smile and wine towards my "hello wife, how are you? You came to see me? True?" He began to bombard as long as I tried to dodge to go see that they were doing to my brother. But suddenly I feel that I grabbed the waist. "Because you ignore your future husband" her attitude change drastically and started to squeeze a little much, as I approached a lot to my self with his arms tried to drive it away. But although we only took 2 years the era was strong than me. "Prince" A voice from the beyond I speak to him, turns out to be Sir Criston.

That when I saw your intentions I get angry more than I was. It is because it is that Sir made that Aegon and my brother will deliver together. For obvious reasons, my brother was smaller in every way. And Aegon I do not doubt. Until the shot of a kick. I scare me a lot about the way we call then I went to look for

Many times as I am so silent, people do not realize my presence, I am invisible for the vast majority. I am a bastard as I have heard much. They also told me the schoo of Aegon for the simple fact that I am committed to the. But so many things have already been told of me that I deaf deaf. See how Sir Criston tried my brother badly, someone who mum told me that I have to protect because they are going to be the only ones who understand me. He is just a child. "You're good?" When I ask him I see how Harwin approaches "Ey calm" I look at Harwin and then Sir Criston "What is leaving" should be shame "Criston turns to see me" Sorry, I have a face of idiot and I feel a person behind Mio, was Aegon who passes me to my shoulder but at that moment I did not care "I should give you ashamed to fight two guys who are not in the same rank of learning, you think that a child can learn by putting him with a guy greater than" all those who were in the courtyon were stored by the last word since lifting the voice in this last. But I did not care, from little one of meant to protect my brothers, and I was already tired of how they were treated, I see as Sir Criston does not take me instead and laughs, that warns Mr. Harwin. And he starts him to defend. But then Sir Criston strikes that I am Hadw's daughter and he goes from Criston and knocks it down and starts him to hit. I never liked the violence, from an event of when I was small I stay and it truars me for that, at the moment Aegon sees that they start to peel the back of me, I leave this movement stuffed. This hard bit since the soldiers separated them.

I scare much and moved me not wanted to see more, call my brothers and went from there. On the way to the altitude of our mother they start talking about the strong I wasw. At that time Jace says something that I leave me disconcerted "I do not like it as our uncle approaches you" I look at it while we walked with a small smile "Good is going to be my husband someday, it's normal" when I say those words in the face of asca and I river.

Perspective of Aegon and Alicent

Aegon looks at his mother, he wants to ask something but he does not know how to do it, he fears himself as an idiot and that his pride hurts him. "Mom, as ... I can, em." Toe a little, Alicent who was behind his lirad stuffed since his son had never been rooted "as a piece to make for a girl to let him hate" Alicent just says that his eldest son looks at him with picking up "Why you ask me that?, You like some girl" This last says it in an affirmation. Aegon the serious looking, then Alicent looks at me like it because he realized that his son was talking to say. "You can give me things, such as dresses, jewelry, flowers, those things to women usually like that" aegon places face to be noting all that in his mental book and it gets rushing the alcove, he already had an idea that giving you. Alicent stands smiling since, he had an idea of who he was going to give it and if his son to all those things for you that meant that your son had more and more the insured throne was perfect.

Reader's perspective

I'm with my friend nearly alone Lilian alone, she was my servant, but it was really my friend. She realizes that I was acting up, wearing, are you, are acting rare that happens to you? " I look at him and I doubt if he or not, but he could not tell someone else apart from her. With my mom I can not talk about this topic because it would be rare "Aegon is behaving rare" looks at me with face of astonishment "as a rare?" I start playing with the flown of my white and pink dress "is that, this is very, like to say it, this very affectionate. It's got a long time, I manage it, when we walked together I grabbed the hand as if we were a real couple and ..." She looks at me serious to wait for me. But go the red that I put on my whole face "but what?" He looked at her and the floor.

@cedricsleftelbow

[mamadoc]

1, 2, 11, 20😊

1 - Talk about someone who changed your life.

Okay. I took far too long to think about this. Since we're all in a post 6x6 and TTPD era, here's a vulnerable, tortured answer.

I had a very close friend for several years. My husband and I were very close to her and her husband. Our kids were friends. We went to the same church, all loved to travel, had similar interests and tastes, had all lived internationally, went on double dates, etc. We even considered having them raise our kids if my husband and I both passed away. In sum, we were super close.

Then COVID hit. As a doctor COVID was difficult. I struggled a lot because I was taking care of sick patients. I recall one tearful day of talking to a pregnant mom who was about to be transferred to the ICU and was saying goodbye to her other children. It really wasn't safe or comfortable to go to work for a long time. I wasn't really dealing with it well, especially with the people around me treating it like it didn't matter. I was really depressed for the first time in my life.

This friend didn't understand that or if she did, she didn't care. So, when I said I wasn't interested in going out in public and having any type of birthday celebration for my birthday (who wants to celebrate turning 41 anyway?), she started attacking me on a personal level. I was already in a dark place and instead of being a good friend and supporting me, she just keep sending me hateful messages.

That was the first and only time in my life I considered suicide. I reached out for help and got it. I wasn't in that dark pit for a long time. I'm much better now. I mostly have my sister to thank for that.

I brought her flowers for Valentine's Day with an apology note a few weeks after that. She never apologized. I brought treats to her a few weeks after that with an apology note explaining why I felt so hurt. I tried to call to explain how I felt so that I could heal. She never answered the phone.

I'm still not sure what I have to apologize for or why she never seemed to accept or offer an apology. But that was two years ago. We still don't talk. Our husbands don't talk. Our kids don't play together anymore. For a long time, I didn't like going to church because I knew I'd have to see her.

Most of that is better now. I'm just sad for a lost friendship and for the dark place I had to crawl out of.

I've used a slight modification of her name for a character in one of my stories who betrayed Lucy. I thought that might be therapeutic, but it just brought the situation up to the surface again.

Uhhh... I can't believe I just wrote all of that. I'll try to keep the rest of the answers a bit lighter.

2 - Talk about something you really want to do.

I LOVE to travel. I've been to 47 states and 16 countries. My husband and I had all of our plans in place to get to all 50 states before we turned 40. Then COVID hit and all of our plans were dashed when travel shut down. We're going at a slower pace now, but we're getting close to it. #48 (NM) in October, #49 (HI) July 2025 as a 20th anniversary trip, and #50 (AK) the summer of 2026.

11 - Share something you're proud of.

According to AO3's stats, I've posted over 339k words since I started posting 7 months ago (plus another 9-10k chapter I hope to finish tonight). I know there are those that blow me out of the water (Ahem, ahem @girlintotv and @centralperkchenford) with their numbers, but I'm pretty proud of that as a first-time writer and working mom with 4 young kids.

20 - Share with us a random fact or two.

I'm afraid I've already overshared. *yikes* But here we go.

I'm the oldest of 6 kids. The first 4 of us are all 23 months apart, then 27 months apart, and 25 months apart. So, we're essentially every 2 years for 10 years with all of our birthdays clustered together. 3 boys and 3 girls.

I had the chicken pox for my eighth birthday. My grandparents came to visit for my birthday, but they were afraid of getting shingles. So, I had to stay in my bedroom on the second floor, and they stayed on the first floor for the whole time they were visiting. I still remember standing in the hallway near the dining room while they sang happy birthday. One of my siblings blew out the candles for me and my mom brought me a piece of cake in the hallway. (Man, I'm still rocking those depressing TTPD vibes, aren't I?) I was officially not contagious the day my mom came home from the hospital with baby #5 in our family, and I remember being so excited to be healthy enough to hold my baby brother.

Sheesh. Now you probably won't ever ask me anything again. Between TTPD, 6x6, and the angst I'm supposed to be writing right now, I'm coming up with some strange answers.

Sorry to be the Eeyore in the crowd. Thanks for asking me to play though.

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